Harry Potter and the Gray Lord
by Redery
Summary: The Dursely's were far more abusive, physically and mentally, than Dumbledore had anticipated. How had that one small miscalculation overhauled all his carefully crafted plans so much? Now Harry ended up in the wrong House. He was surrounded with people he wasn't supposed to be. He was on a different path, a different quest than Dumbledore would have of him. He'd have to be stopped
1. A World of Magic,

**Disclaimer**: I'm a lazy guy, so I'm only putting this up here once and for all. This applies to this entire story, including every individual chapter. I don't own Harry Potter and don't profit from it at all. If I did, this would be canon and not on a fanfiction site.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Book 1<strong>: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord

**Chapter 1**: A World of Magic

Harry James Potter was a freak. Harry was a freak whose parents were drunkards that had died in a car accident, leaving him to burden the honorable, noble, and exemplary Dursley family. They raised him, they clothed him, they fed him, they paid for his school and they took care of him from the mercy of their tender hearts even though he was such a freak. And if they _tapped_ him around a bit, well it was only natural to try to knock the freakishness out of him. He was a freak so of course he had to be treated _slightly _different than their beloved, adorable, brave, smart and perfect son Dudley.

At least according to Vernon and Petunia Dursley. In reality Harry knew he was a _different,_ that he could do _special_ things. No one else could grow their hair out over night or turn their teacher's hair blue or teleport on top of roofs. No one else could talk to snakes like he could as he found out one day when a grass snake slithered by the weed he was pulling out of Petunia's garden. He tried not to do them because that only got him severely beaten with belt or rod or simply the meaty fist of Vernon and thrown in a cupboard for half a week with no food and the only water the drops from the crack in the ceiling that landed in his mouth every once in a while if he positioned himself just right under the leak.

He was smarter than his bloated cousin and faster too, even though he was never allowed to showcase either point or his cousin would whine to his parents and earn Harry another beating. Afterwards Vernon would hold him and let Dudley practice his boxing 'skills' on Harry's ribs. As if the freak could be smarter or faster than their precious baby!

He got beat if he chewed too loudly from the food that barely filled a fraction of the large plate it was presented on (food which he cooked himself and got beat if it was even slightly burned or a bit too salty). He got beat for clipping the flowers a millimeter too much or too little in Petunia's garden that was only in its pristine condition due to Harry's care. He got beat for talking or asking questions and he got beat for breathing too loudly. He got beat if he did poorly in school, and he got beat 'seriously' when he did better than Dudley (which wasn't too good to start with). He got beat if he walked too slow, or walked too fast. He got beat because Dudley was bored from playing with his room full of toys while Harry didn't have a single one, or whining from not being bought the newest one, or mad from failing another test, or on a sugar high from all the sweet candy that wasn't 'as sweet as my widdle Dudders.' He got beat when Vernon went to work, and when he came back and when he went to sleep and when he woke up. He got beat if he did his chores and he got beat 'seriously' if he didn't.

A regular beating was just a few belt whips, or a few rod strikes or a few punches and kicks. Beat seriously was Vernon's definition of beating him until he was black and blue and unconscious to be thrown into his small cupboard and only let out two or three days later. To put it simply Harry couldn't remember a day he had not got beaten for one reason or another. It was a miracle he was still alive since they never took him to the doctors, another reason why he knew he was special. He had seen children that fell on the playground at his school sporting the same bruised elbow a week later while he recovered from bone breaking injuries faster. Of course the Dursley's were careful to never beat him on the face (except on weekends when they knew it would heal up by the time he went to school) and only beat him where his shaggy clothes would cover the bruises up. His natural skin color on his stomach, back and legs was practically blue.

Still, Harry didn't mind the beatings that much. He would always endure them and had gotten used to them by now. What Harry couldn't stand was the psychological abuse. He _hated_ being called a freak. His jaw would close so firmly as to grind shells to dust if they were in between them at the time, his eyes would dilate in ice cold fury, his fists would close unconsciously and something, something _special_, something _powerful_, would flare inside him, begging to be unleashed. It was all he could do to keep it in control, not because he was afraid of the beatings since he could endure those, but because he was afraid of that 'something'.

On the 23rd of June, 1990, however, he just couldn't hold it back anymore. It was Dudley's 10th birthday and all his friends were there along with piles of presents. The Dursley's were leaving for a whole weekend starting the day after to treat their son. Harry of course was being left behind, locked in his cupboard since Mrs. Figg had told them she had to go to London during their trip. It was the biggest party Dudley had had to date, and he spent the entire prior week rubbing it in Harry's face, since _freaks _didn't get parties. The taunting only increased until the day of the party. Dudley and his friends spent the time waiting for the cake playing their favorite game; Harry Hunting. It was bad enough being called a _freak_ by the Dursley's, but all the other kids were doing it too. His blood had been boiling all week, and now it was about to blow completely. Later when the party was over and his friends had left, Dudley got bored and had Vernon tie him up where the piñata had been and began to see if _freaks _had any candy inside them.

"Hahaha! Freak, freak, freak! Let's see what the piñata freak is hiding inside!" chanted Dudley as his parents laughed and watched the show. "You're nothing but a FREAK!" shouted Dudley as he hit Harry hard on the head with his bat.

That was the last straw for Harry as his vision went red, and he no longer cared about the consequences of that something _special_ inside him.

"I'M NOT A FREAAAAAAAAK!" he roared at the top of his lungs as whatever it was that was holding that something back inside of him shattered and it blasted out of him in a glowing blood red shockwave, the bat shattering into splinters, rocking the house and sending precious Dudders flying into the wall and knocking him unconscious from the sheer power of it. Vernon and Petunia were sent tumbling as the sofa they sat on rolled back from shockwave.

It was over in less than a second, but it looked like a tornado had blasted through the Dursley's living room. Glass shards were littering the floor. The furniture was all toppled backwards forming a circle around the still dangling Harry. Dudley was crumpled up against the wall, Petunia was lying unconscious under the sofa and Vernon was groaning loudly as he held his head in his hands. Harry hung limply from the rope, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging low as he stared at the chaos _he _had caused.

"Wh-what the?" groaned Vernon as he got up unsteadily. He glanced around, his eyes shaking in fear until he saw the forms of his wife and son. "You did this! I'll show you who's a freak!" shouted Vernon as he charged at Harry and began beating him like never before. He punched him and kicked him and even bit him. Harry cried in pain as he tried to summon that something again, but it only simmered a little inside of him, not enough to be pushed out again.

"I'll kill you freak! We took you in and this is how you repay us? You and your filthy kind, I'll kill you all!" roared the walrus of a man as he broke another one of Harry's ribs. Harry slipped out of consciousness under the heavy onslaught as Vernon kept beating his limp body until he was sweating and heaving. "No. I won't kill you, freak. I'll beat you and beat you again for the rest of your life. Then I'll sell you to a freak circus where you belong," he whispered as he tore the rope apart and flung Harry's body into the cupboard and locked it. He then went and carried his wife and son to the car and drove them to the hospital.

* * *

><p>It was dark and empty. Harry was floating in a seemingly endless void.<p>

_'Am I dead?'_ he wondered as he twisted his body around trying to find something, anything in that dark emptiness. No matter how much he turned around, he could see nothing but darkness. Just as he was about to give up, thinking he was truly dead, he felt something pulling at him from above. He looked up to see a slim dark green light as his body started to flow towards it. It grew larger and larger as he neared it, until he found himself standing in front of a closed door, the light escaping through the hinges from inside. Harry carefully placed his hand on the knob, and pushed the door open slowly. The room was exactly like the outside except there were brilliant streaks of green flying around it. As Harry stepped inside he could hear ever so faint voices speaking, calling his name.

_'Harry! No, not Harry!_'

"Is someone there?" asked Harry hesitantly. As soon as Harry spoke, he became aware of another presence. He twisted around to look into the corner and his mouth opened in a silent scream as he laid his eyes on the most twisted and mangled creature he had seen.

'_Oh, you've come at last? Yes, come to me boy,_' spoke or rather hissed the voice.

Harry immediately turned around and bolted, screaming as he ran through the door, shutting it behind him and plunged into the void of darkness that was far better than that thing.

* * *

><p>Harry woke up sore and in more pain than he could remember feeling. He hurt all over and could barely move as he lifted his head to look around and see that he was inside his dark cupboard. He blinked a few times; confused as to what he just saw, but shrugged it off as a dream. He tried to remember what happened before that and then burst out laughing as he remembered what he had done even though his whole body protested and ached.<p>

"I knew it. I'm not a freak! I'm just special. They can't do that! Only I can." He grinned as he raised his arms and looked at his hands. He could feel _it_ inside of him. It was there, right under his skin, working on soothing his wounds and mending his bones. He could almost see it, barely making it out as it simmered to the top of his skin occasionally, now a slightly blue rather than the flaming red from before.

He threw his head back and laughed again despite the pain it caused, because no pain could hurt him now. He wouldn't be kicked around by them anymore or take being called a freak. He could fight back now. He had power! He could barely contain his excitement as he rolled around laughing, his joy at his new found powers letting him ignore his pain. That was at least until he rolled towards the door and saw something.

His eyes landed on the door knob and he frowned as the full realization came to him. He was still trapped in here and now they would surely kill him for what he did. He grunted as he worked his aching body up and grabbed at the door knob. It was locked. He would be stuck here until they either dragged him out to kill him or starve inside. He would've started crying if _it_ didn't simmer inside of him, stirring around like stew in a pot. He looked down at his beaten, blood covered body and broke into a grin again.

"That's right. I have power now, they can't keep me here. Go, destroy the door!" he yelled as he thrust his hand out, palm facing the door.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned as he looked at his hand and thrust it at the door again. "Come on, work! Why won't you come out?" he flailed as he tried to get _it_to work. It was bubbling right there inside him, but he couldn't move it. "Darn it! Why won't you work! What's the point if I can't even use you!" he growled as he thrust his hand at the door again, but still nothing happened. "Do I have to be angry or something?" he wondered, thinking back to how he used it last night. He closed his eyes and pictured Dudley and Vernon and Petunia all calling him a freak. His fists curled up as he forced himself to think of their abuses.

'_Freak, freak, freak! You're just a little freak!_' they chanted, over and over in his head. Harry felt _it_, it was fuming inside him again. His injuries started hurting worse as _it _stopped trying to mend them and instead gathered up inside him, swirling into a ball of rage. Harry roared as he thrust his throbbing arm at the door and this time _it _flew out, all of it, smashing the door to pieces and flinging the shards away, taking Harry's rage away with it. He sunk to his knees, exhausted as he felt empty inside. The morning sunlight flew into the cupboard like an over energetic child, but Harry didn't have a chance to enjoy it. He groaned in pain as he sunk further onto his chest and face, laying there unable to move as the pain through his broken body was fully felt. As he slipped back into unconsciousness, he regretted using _it_ now since it had been keeping the pain at bay and fixing him.

* * *

><p>Harry groaned as he awoke again. He lay still for a few minutes, trying to overpower the pain, duller now, as he felt <em>it<em> shimmering back inside him. It wasn't shimmering as strongly as he felt before, but it seemed that his power would come back on its own. He grinned as he forced himself up. He was still inside the cupboard, but now it was very bright, most likely around noon time. From the silence and the fact that he was still alive, it seemed as if the Dursleys weren't home yet. Harry pushed himself to his feet and crawled out slowly to find something to eat and drink as his stomach growled at him. Looking up at the kitchen clock showed it was almost eleven. He drank a glass of water as he took out some leftovers and began devouring them with a glass of milk at the kitchen table. The leftovers were stale and hard, but tasted like five star cuisine to Harry. How he wished he could eat like that every day!

After his meal, he sat back to gather his thoughts and make plans as to what he should do next. Clearly he couldn't afford to stay here until the Dursleys got back. But where could he go? There was no one to take him in. He couldn't go to the police either. They would force an investigation and as soon as the Dursleys found out where he was they would have him killed. He saw the remote lying at the edge of the table and picked it up, turning the TV on. It showed the date was the 25th of June. That meant he had been in the cupboard unconscious for an entire day. He recalled that today was the day Mrs. Figg was supposed to go somewhere. He limped over to the window to confirm that her car was still in her lot. He needed to get away from Little Whinging and fast and there was no way he could do that on foot in his current condition. He also needed to get a disguise or Dudley's friends would recognize him if his current plan didn't work and he had to try something else. He limped up the stairs and into Dudley's room. After ransacking his wardrobe he found a pair of old sun glasses that fit over his half broken ones and an oversized cap. If he donned those, he should be able to walk around without being recognized immediately. He helped himself to Dudley's saved up allowance since it should've been his in the first place seeing as he did all the work around here. Afterwards he sneaked into Vernon and Petunia's room and took all the cash he could find from their hidden stash. It was a few hundred pounds and could last him a month if he rationed it properly. He emptied Dudley's school bag and filled it with other necessities such as water bottles and spare clothes.

That done, he slipped out of the house, hopefully for the last time and limped over to Mrs. Figg's car. Luckily the door was unlocked. Harry sneaked into the back of the car where he found an old blanket covered with cat fur. He stashed his bag under the passenger's seat and threw the blanket over himself, praying it was enough to keep him hidden. It was fortunate that Mrs Figg didn't come for half an hour because it took him that long to stop sneezing with all the cat fur. He found himself falling asleep and only shot awake when he heard a door slam and saw Mrs. Figg walk out of her house. He squirmed lower into the seat and hid himself completely under the blanket, praying she wouldn't look in the back. He held his breath as she opened the front door and sat down, throwing her purse into the passenger's seat. He didn't let it out until she started the car and pulled away from the curb and began driving away, humming to herself. He fell asleep shortly after again, his body still aching dully. He snapped awake as he heard the front door slam close. He waited a minute before slowly lifting the blanket off and peeking around. The car was parked in a busy street, probably somewhere in London. As he looked around he saw Mrs. Figg walk toward a building that was...

Hmm, that was weird. Something was keeping him from focusing on the building. No matter how hard he squinted, his eyes would slide away from it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them just in time to see Mrs. Figg walk into the run down building. Again he felt something try to push his eyes away from the building, but he resisted it as best as he could. He continued to fight with it for a minute or so until he began to see a shimmering, colorless haze around the building. At least that was the best way he could describe it. It was like looking out at a distance on a hot, sunny day and seeing the horizon shimmer around. But Harry knew this was no heat wave. It, whatever _it_ was, felt almost exactly like the _stuff_ inside him. Now that he focused on the haze and could see it, he felt his own stuff attracted towards it, as if begging him to go into the building. Harry secured his hat and sun glasses and stepped out of the car, keeping his eyes on the building. He fixed up the blanket to leave no trace of his being there and grabbed his bag. Hesitantly walking towards the building, he saw it _transform_ from a rundown old shop to a fancy bar named _The Leaky Cauldron_. His jaw dropped as he stared at it. It was like magic! As he walked to the door step, he felt the last bits of the 'haze' pushing him away disappear and he walked inside. Several people looked up at him curiously, but he immediately ducked his head and tried to seem inconspicuous. He saw Mrs. Figg leave out the back door, followed by another elderly man and slowly worked his way over to the back door. He jumped out of it and into an alley way, quickly ducking down into the cover of the shadows. He found to his dismay that he was in a closed alley. He saw Mrs. Figg standing behind the man at one end of it. The man appeared to raise a stick and wave it across the brick wall. Harry's eyes widened as he watched the bricks rearrange themselves and open up to reveal a whole new world behind them. The two walked into the world unhesitatingly and the wall began to close behind them. Unconsciously, Harry raced behind them and dived in just before the wall closed. Harry had always known he was special and now that he had found a special world, there was no way he was going back. He stared all around him, slack jawed and eyes wide in awe. This was surely a world of magic.

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: I've had this idea for a while now. Hope you enjoyed. Please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome. Please keep in mind that I was raised in the USA and don't know British English, so they it will likely be wrong as I don't know most of the differences. I'll try my best though.


	2. A Life of Lies

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord  
>Chapter Two: Life of Lies<span>

Harry could hardly believe his eyes. Past the crumbling brick wall was a sign that welcomed him into Diagon Alley, an alley that made him feel a lot less special. Everything around him was beyond fascinating as he walked around with his jaw open and eyes wide beyond his glasses. He stared in amazement as a chest walked itself behind its owner, full to the brim, but still able to fit anything else dumped into it. He gaped at a man flying overhead on a broom! He stared at the strange shop names and the stranger items displayed in their windows. He must've looked like a fool if anyone had been paying attention to a dirty, oversized rag covered child. He spun around and around as he tried to take in all the sights and the people (what was that light coming out of the stick that man was waving around?), the sounds (did someone say dragon hearts? They have dragons?), the oddly named signs (_Magical Menagerie_? What did that even mean?) and clearly magical items (a cauldron stirring itself? How was that even possible?), and just about everything else. He kept turning around looking at anything that caught his attention (which was just about everything) until he got so dizzy he ended up bumping into someone and falling down.

"Gah! Watch where you're walking, you filthy squib!" cried the middle aged woman, well dressed in black robes and a wide brimmed hat. She sneered at Harry and stormed off, leaving him confused.

"Squib? What's that?" he asked himself as he got up and dusted his clothes off. Whatever it was, he didn't like the sound of it. Her tone reminded him too much of when his relatives called him freak.

He got himself under control and decided to look for a library of some sort. Harry had always been a smart child, even if he was prohibited from displaying it. At school he would hide away in the library during lunch and recess to avoid being bullied by Dudley and his gang and manage to lose himself in the world of books. It was the only thing that could distract him from the hardships of life since he was never allowed to watch TV with the Dursleys. He learned much from them, much more than from any adult. He knew that books could teach you about the world and places in it that you'd never know existed or be able to visit. Though he hadn't read about this magical place, he knew there must be books about it. There had to be a library even in a magical land.

The only problem was that he didn't know how to ask anyone. He was always punished for asking questions before so he usually kept to himself and tried to figure things out on his own. Especially after the brusque way the lady had treated him. So instead he continued walking, marveling at the different things until he spotted a book store called _Flourish and Blotts_. Harry went inside and saw many people looking for and buying books. He cruised down the aisles, almost jumping with joy at the strange books inside and the stranger knowledge they must contain within their leathery bounds. Harry sighed as he forced himself to stop from picking up every book he crossed and started looking for anything that could tell him where things were located on Diagon Alley or more about the magical world in general.

"May I be of assistance, young man?" asked the elderly store manager, eyeing Harry with curiosity as he neared the counter in his search for the right book.

"Uh, yes sir. I was looking for a book or map that might tell me about the layout of Diagon Alley," replied Harry timidly.

"Ah I thought you were a new face here. I do have a few old books on the blueprints, but I'm afraid most of them are outdated. The Alley isn't too big so we don't have any maps either. What are you looking for? Perhaps I can direct you there," said the manager in a kindly voice.

"Oh, um well, I was looking for a library," responded Harry.

"A library? Why would you need one of those? I assure you, my boy, I have all the books you could want for," chuckled the manager.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably as he looked around at the expensive looking books. "Ah, well, you see, um I don't have much money, so I don't think I can afford very many books."

"Nonsense! What kind of wizard do you think I am, letting something like money get in between a boy and his books, eh? You're free to read as many as you want. We have a few chairs and couches in the corner for people to sit down and enjoy a good book. Just make sure to put them back where you picked them up from," ordered the manager in mock strict tone.

Harry tried to cover his shock. He could read _all_ these books for _free_? He almost jumped at the opportunity before realizing something.

"Thank you very much, sir! But, um you said you're a wizard?"

The manager raised an eyebrow under his large hat. "Well of course, my boy. Everyone here is either a wizard or a witch. Are you muggle born by chance?"

"Muggle born?" asked Harry, confused.

"Well that answers the question, I suppose. Did you get your Hogwarts letter yet? They ought to do a better job of explaining these things."

"Ah, no sir," said Harry, wondering what in the world a hog's warts had to do with any kind of letter.

"My, oh my, then how'd you ever get in here? I can tell you're no muggle, even though you dressed like one. Never mind. Probably best I don't know. Muggles, my boy, are those who can't perform magic. In fact most of them don't even know about it, unless their child turns out to be magical. That's muggle born; a magical child born to non-magical parents," explained the manager.

"Oh. I suppose I am. I wouldn't know though. My parents died in an accident when I was a baby."

"Terribly sorry to hear that my boy," said the manager sympathetically. "Well why don't you help yourself to some books, and let me know if you have any questions. Since you don't seem to know much about the magical world, may I suggest starting on _Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to do With Them Now You've Wised Up_. After that, maybe look into the A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Hogwarts; A History, also by Bagshot is a good one if you're planning to go to Hogwarts. You can find the first one on aisle nine and the rest on aisle twelve in the history section."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir!" exclaimed Harry as he finally gave in to his curiosity and went to search for the books.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Harry found his ignored stomach growling as he finished skimming and power reading through emPowers You Never Knew You Hadem. He couldn't believe it. He was a wizard! Magic was real! It explained the reason why he always felt different, all of his 'freakiness', and the last couple of days. Harry James Potter was a wizard with magical powers! And the book taught him that all the things he'd done in the past were just accidental magic, and he hadn't even scratched the tip of the iceberg of magic. He couldn't wait to get into real magic.  
>He frowned though as he pondered over some of what the book had said. It told him that magical children could perform accidental magic without knowing how or what they did, and they needed to go to a magical school (he found out the Hogwarts the manager had mentioned was one such school) to train under wizards and witches using wands to learn to use their powers. That didn't sound right to Harry because he had felt his magic stirring inside him for a couple of years now, even though he never knew what exactly it had been. He had used it before ever finding out about magic. Sure he had done most of it accidentally like the book said, but he had been able to replicate it when he blasted the door of his cupboard. Even though it was incredibly difficult, he had been able to recall how it felt and used that feeling to guide the power inside him to come out and blast the door.<p>

The book briefly mentioned that only the greatest of wizards could do such things without using spell words or a wand. Everyone else needed a wand to channel the magic though and utter special words that told the channeled magic what to do. It said nothing of being able to _'feel'_ the magic inside you. But even now Harry could feel his magic shimmering around his body; still working on fixing him up fully (he winced as he recalled his injuries, the pain returning as he did so.)

He looked out the window, seeing it was nearing evening time. He'd have to find a place to sleep and hopefully get some food. He needed to head to the bank first though. The book had also briefly touched upon wizarding money, advising muggle borns to convert their currency to galleons, sickles, and knuts. To do so he'd have to go to Gringotts, the only bank in Magical Britain. He took out the money he had taken from the Dursleys and counted out almost a thousand in bills. He chuckled to himself, wishing he could see the look on Vernon's face as he realized Harry had escaped with his 'hard earned' money. Harry scowled in anger as thinking of Vernon reminded him of something he said the night Harry unleashed his powers.

_'You and your filthy kind, I'll kill you all!'_

That was what he had bellowed in his rage. He had known all along Harry was a wizard and that there were others like him, but he had hid it from Harry. He would pay.

Before Harry could start planning his revenge, his stomach growled again. Harry was no stranger to hunger and had in fact eaten better today than he usually did. But since he was free from the Dursley's tyranny now, he decided he'd rather keep his stomach content. And so he closed the book and moved to put it back where he got it from. He planned to head to the bank and exchange his money and then get something to eat and find a place to stay for a few nights. He hoped wizards didn't have laws about renting rooms to underage kids. The manager smiled and waved to him as he put the book back and headed towards the door. However as he was about to walk out, something caught his eye. It was facing the inside of the store so he hadn't seen it when he walked in originally, but there on the shelves near the door, there was a book with his picture drawn on it. It was a crude image, of a boy with green eyes and glasses and dark hair neatly trimmed, fighting a dragon. It could've been a picture of any boy, except for the fact that a large lightning bolt was marked on the boy's forehead (albeit on the opposite side as Harry's own) and the title read _Harry Potter and the Dragon's Tooth_. Harry stopped in his tracks as his jaw dropped. He changed course and headed for the book, even his stomach quieting at the thought of the disturbing book. As he neared it, he saw the shelf was full of other books supposedly about him. All of them featured Harry Potter and this or that. Some had brilliant swords while others had horrific creatures, some with the boy leading armies against skull wearing evil doers, while others had the boy wonder standing above a fallen dark wizard. Harry picked up the first book he had seen and quickly skimmed through it, completely gobsmacked as it told him tales of when he had fought a dragon for its obsidian tooth that had the power to cure any disease. Harry certainly didn't remember doing that. He had to look at the cover three times before confirming that it was indeed a crudely drawn picture of him and not some other Harry Potter, unless of course the other Harry Potter had his scar and his eyes.

Harry shook his head in bewilderment as he put the book back and went up to the manager. He waited till the man served his customer and the two were alone.

"Um excuse me sir, but I was wondering who's Harry Potter?"

"Bloody Merlin! You don't know who Harry Potter is? Everyone knows who Harry Potter is!" exclaimed the manager. He told Harry of a boy bearing his name that had led to the downfall of the most feared Dark Lord in recent history, earning him the same scar that now adorned Harry's forehead. He told Harry to read the _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ if he wanted to learn more.

Harry thanked him as he self-consciously lowered the hat covering his hair and forehead. He hurried off to get the book and plopped back down in the corner to read it. He looked for the section on him and ignored the rest of the book as he read each chilling word with complete raptness. It started from the rise of a dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort (to Harry's annoyance, the book only named him once and thereafter stubbornly refused to call him anything but You-Know-Who) and how some prominent members of society flocked to his side. It gave a brief overview of the issue of blood purity and Harry learned what squibs were. It discussed how Lord Voldemort (Harry found it annoying to keep reading 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' and automatically switched to his name to save some time and hurry up with his reading) brought terror and death to wherever he and his mask adorned followers, who called themselves death eaters, went. It described how many a great wizard or witch fell to his brutal dark magic and how few had the courage to resist.

Among those few was a young couple, recently out of school. James Potter, a pure blood hailing from a prominent family and his wife Lily Evans, a muggle born witch, the brightest of her generation. The two stood against Voldemort and his followers along with the great Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort feared, and a few others in his Order of the Phoenix. It went on to discuss how the Potter's were heart brokenly betrayed by their best friend, Sirius Black, who had in fact been the right hand of the Dark Lord himself. He gave Voldemort their location and the Dark Lord, in his quest to rid not only 'mud bloods', a filthy, derogative term for muggle borns, but also those he called 'blood traitors', or simply anyone that stood up against him, went to their house to finish them off with his own evil hand. Unbeknown to him, he was to meet his match there at the hands of none other than a baby, Harry James Potter. No one knew how, or why, or what caused the great Dark Lord to succumb to a mere infant, but none complained. It was tragic how young Harry's parents had lost their lives before Harry could destroy the fiend, but alas sacrifices must be paid in times of war. The book then ended the chapter by saying no one knew where Harry was or what became of him except that he was under the great Albus Dumbledore's protection.

Harry put down the book slowly while his mind raced at a thousand miles a second. Was his whole life just one big lie? Who were his true parents? What kind of people were they? Who was Sirius Black and why had he betrayed his parents? Why had his parents been fool enough to trust him in the first place? Who was Voldemort and why did he kill them and try to kill Harry? How had Harry stopped him when he couldn't even remember any of this happening? Who was this Dumbledore that was supposedly taking care of Harry, but whose name he had never heard of until this very moment? These were just some of the pressing questions racing through his mind as he tried to realign his world view that had been so easily toppled in a single day. He would've continued to stare off into space, a hand covering his bedazzled face, except that the manager walked up to him and snapped him out of it.

"Yes, my boy, it was a terribly tragic story, eh? But don't weep, for what would have been the outcome if it hadn't occurred would've been hundreds of times more tragic," muttered the manager, mistaking Harry's shocked expression for one of horror at Voldemort's crimes. "Now, it's time for me to close the store. Do you have a place to stay, my boy? If not you can come with me for the night."

Harry forced himself to smile as he looked up at the well intention wizard. "Thank you sir, but I should be getting home now. My uncle must be worried about me. Thank you for letting me stay and read!"

"Anytime, my boy, anytime."

Harry left the shop, making sure that his hat was covering his forehead and refused to take off his sunglasses even in the diminishing sunlight. He kept asking the same questions over and over while he walked aimlessly. He only stopped when he almost tripped on a wide stone slab. Looking up he discovered himself in front of the steps leading to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. A goblin guard was eyeing him distastefully, probably thinking he was just some random street rat with his oversized rags and thin frame. Harry ignored him as he walked into the bank. It was mostly empty except a few witches and wizards trying to get their transactions completed before the bank closed. Harry strolled to a teller (his name plate identifying him as Snatchtooth) who was packing up his things and getting ready to leave.

"Hmph. What do you want brat?" questioned the goblin, sneering at Harry's poor appearance. "We're about to close."

"Sorry to bother you sir, but I'd like to exchange some muggle money for wizarding coins, if you'd be so kind," replied Harry as he withdrew his cash.

The goblin looked taken back by the polite way Harry spoke to it, until he saw the amount of money he took out.  
>"What's this? Robbed some old fool?"<p>

"Er, no sir," muttered Harry unconvincingly as he fidgeted under the goblin's stare.

"Hmph, none of my business anyway. It costs ten percent to change currencies."

Harry frowned, thinking that couldn't possibly be right as, but handed over the money anyway. "Do you know a place where I can get a cheap room for the night, sir?"

Snatchtooth sneered as he snatched the cash, counted it expertly, and dished out a few galleon coins to Harry. "Try Knockturn Alley."

"Thank you sir, have a good night," said Harry as he turned to leave. However, something just struck him and he turned back to the goblin staring at him suspiciously.

"What now?" it questioned. The bank was mostly clear now, the last old wizard having just left as most of the tellers closed their desks.

"Um, I was wondering, is there any way I could find out about what happens to the money of those who die?" asked Harry. He recalled the book had said something about the Potter family being one of the higher status families in Magical Britain.

"It's given to their heirs, obviously," drawled the goblin.

"May I inquire about the Potter family's fortune?" asked Harry hesitantly. Snatchtooth suddenly scowled at him as a few goblins around them gasped.

"Come with me brat," said Snatchtooth as he motioned for a guard to grab Harry and began walking towards the back of the bank.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN<span>**: Thanks for the reviews and feedback! I'm looking for a beta if any one wants to volunteer?  
>Have a great day!<p> 


	3. Learn, and Learn Fast

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord  
><span>Chapter 3: Learn, and Learn Fast<span>

The goblins took him towards a set of silver doors, flanked by more goblin guards, above which was engraved:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry gulped back his fear as the guards dragged him through the doors and into the dimly lit hall leading to the countless vaults.

"What do you want? Did I do something wrong?" asked Harry, trying to struggle out of the grasp of his captivators. The goblins held on firmly and ignored him as they hopped into a mine cart behind Snatchtooth while he operated it. The cart plummeted into the dark faster than any roller coaster and Harry might have enjoyed the ride if not for the iron grip of the guards. What felt like an eternity later, the cart landed in front of a small, dark door. The goblins got out of the cart and led Harry through it, opening the door to reveal a dark room with steel chairs and chains. Towards the end of the room there was a large desk with a small lamp on it, the only light in the room that lit up a particularly nasty looking goblin with scars covering his face sitting behind it. He looked up and gave a predatory smile.

"What do we 'ave 'ere, lads?"

"A wannabe thief. Thinks he can trick me with his pretty words," grunted Snatchtooth as he led Harry to a chair in front of the desk and seated him in it, the steel chains automatically wrapping around him as the guards walked back to take up vigil in front of the door.

"What? I didn't steal anything!" protested Harry to no avail.

"Thought that warnin' on the doors was just fer show, eh? Thought it didn't apply ta yer 'ighness, eh?" sneered the goblin behind the desk as he got up and made his way around it. "Well ye thought wrong, me lad. Now it's time ta _'pay most dearly,'_ eh? What 'e do Snatchy? Where do I put 'im?"

"I told you not to call me that, you uncultured swine. The boy was after the Potter money. Thought since he could rob some muggle fools, he was good enough to go after Gringotts," replied Snatchtooth.

"What? No! I wasn't after anything! I was just asking!" yelled Harry as he struggled against his chains.

"Hmph. You think you're the first one to try and get at the Potter's vault? We've had dozens of impostors over the year thinking they can impersonate the boy-who-lived while he wasn't showing his face," snarled Snatchtooth.

"No, you got it all wrong! I _am_ Ha-," started Harry before he cut himself off and cursed his foolishness. The _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ hadn't said anything about the goblins. Were they on Voldemort's side or Dumbledore's? Or neither? If they knew he was Harry Potter would he be killed right then and there in vengeance for their Dark Lord, would he be taken to this Dumbledore fellow or would they not care either way and still carry out their own punishment?

"Yer what?" asked the scarred goblin.

"I'm innocent! I didn't do anything!" cried Harry.

"Ha! That's what they all say. At least before I get started on 'em," grinned the goblin, causing his scars to stretch in a most nauseating way as he drew a small knife. "Now tell us who sent ye, boy? Was it the Notts again? Or the Yaxelys?"

"I-I don't know them! No one sent me! I was just curious!"

"Oho, lookie 'ere, we got a tough one. Ye want me ta do this the 'ard way then?" asked the scarred goblin in a tone that made it clear he hoped for Harry to say yes. But before Harry could say anything, he heard the door burst open and someone storm inside. He tried to look around, but couldn't do so since he was still chained down to the chair.  
>"What in the world are you buffoons doing?" questioned the newcomer.<p>

"That's none of your business is it, _Mister_ Zargulg?" sneered Snatchtooth, pronouncing mister with mock respect.

"Well it just so happens that it is. After all, I am the Potters' Account manager. I am to handle any inquires about them, not you or Scarface here. Now put that blade away! What do you think you're doing, scaring the poor child half to death?"

Snatchtooth and Scarface looked highly annoyed, but they obeyed and released the chains on Harry, letting him turn around to see a tall (at least by goblin standards) goblin wearing a tailored suit .

"Thank you. And I'd remind you to not overstep your bounds again, lest I have to inform the Director. Now come, child, let us take our leave from these buffoons," said the goblin. Harry gladly obliged, running out of the room after Zargulg as he entered another cart. Zargulg made the cart take off as soon as Harry stepped inside, going up this time.

"My apologies, Mr.." trailed off Zargulg.

"Um… Noxely, sir," responded Harry. Zargulg raised an eyebrow at that but continued on.

"My deepest apologies, Mr. Noxely. I do hope you don't think all goblins are as uncultured as those two. Bogrod told me you were there for money exchange? It will be done free of charge as compensation for their unruly behavior."  
>"Um, thank you, sir."<p>

"Ah! Here we are. This way to my office," said the goblin, stepping out of the cart and opening a bronze door for Harry. Harry stepped inside to see a large desk filled with papers and a few soft cushioned chairs surrounding it.  
>"Have a seat, Mr... Noxely. May I offer you some biscuits?" he asked, leading the way to his desk and holding out a bowl filled with some.<p>

"Yes please. Thank you, sir," replied Harry as he took a seat and grabbed one.

"Help yourself. Now what was it you wished to inquire?"

"Uh, I was just wondering what happened to the Potter money, sir."

"Why it's in this very bank, of course, waiting for its rightful heir. Speaking of which, do you mind holding this?" asked Zargulg, handing Harry a strangely shaped device that looked like a misshapen potato. As Harry grabbed it, he felt a sting in his hand and dropped it back on to the desk.

"Ow!"

Zargulg paid no attention to Harry as he picked up the device and examined it changing color. "Aha! You are of the Potter bloodline! Which can only mean you are Harry Potter! Pleasure to meet your acquaintance!" he yelled as he extended his hand forward.

"Um… ah… likewise?" croaked Harry confused, as he had no choice but to shake the hand.

"How come you haven't been here before? It's customary for children to at least see their inheritance by the age of seven and you're almost eleven, correct?"

"Ah… yes sir. I never knew about the bank beforehand, sir, so I couldn't have come earlier."

"What? Not known about Gringotts!? Have you been living under a rock? What has that old bumbling fool been teaching you? And look at you! Those clothes!" exclaimed Zargulg, wrinkling his nose at Harry's oversized hand-me-downs. His eyes squinted and his voice took on a dangerous tone as he asked "Has Dumbledore been mistreating you?"

"Um.. to be honest sir, today is the first time I ever even heard the name Dumbledore. I have no idea who he is except what I read in a book. Today's the first time I've ever been in Diagon Alley and found out about magic."  
>"What? You are kidding, right?" asked Zargulg. His mouth opened in shock as Harry shook his head. "But that's utterly preposterous! The blood doesn't lie! You <em>are<em> Harry Potter, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Then how can you not have known about magic all these years?! I know you were hidden away from the public by Dumbledore, but to think you've never seen your own guardian or learned anything from him! How could he have been so gross in his neglect to his duties and responsibilities to his charge?"

"Um, sir, I'm very confused about all this. Dumbledore's my guardian? But I've lived with my aunt and uncle my entire life! They're muggles and called me a freak for doing accidental magic. I only ran away today and stumbled upon the magical world accidentally."

"But… but… that doesn't make any sense! You've _never_ heard of Gringotts before?" asked Zargulg as he opened a file on his desk and quickly dug through its contents.

"No sir."

"But right here, is your own signature!" he proclaimed, drawing forth a paper from the seemingly endless pile in the file. "It was from when you were seven years of age, when Gringotts is obligated to question a sole heir if they wish to oversee the handling of their accounts by their guardians. You signed yes on it along with a drop of your blood as proof!"

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the paper for the first time. "That's not how I sign my name, sir." It was way to fancy looking for his chicken scrawl.

"But… this is fraud! That long bearded scoundrel! Who knows how much damage he could have done to _your_ money by now! Come, we must take this to the Director at once!" exclaimed the goblin as he grabbed the file, stood up knocking his chair back and rushed out the door leaving Harry to sprint to catch up with him. Harry ran after him as the surprisingly swift goblin rushed through the halls and turned corners so fast Harry almost lost sight of him a few times. Finally they arrived at a double set of large golden gates, guarded by two halberd wielding goblins on each side.

"Halt! The Director is no longer seeing anyone!" proclaimed one guard stepping forth.

"But I must see him! It is a very urgent matter! I've just stumbled upon the most outrageous of frauds!" yelled Zargulg.

The guards seem to consider for a moment before a voice from inside yelled to "let him in."

The doors opened and Zargulg rushed in followed by Harry who shriveled under the gazes of the stout goblin guards.  
>"What is it this time Zargulg?" sighed the Director, a wizened old goblin wearing fancy gold and silver robes and sitting behind a gold colored desk on a plush couch. "I thought I told you I'd have your head if you ever called on me after hours again for no reason."<p>

"Yes Director Ragnuk, but it really is important this time! There's been a fraud! I can't believe it myself, but-"  
>"Enough. Start from the start. And who's the brat?" interrupted the Director.<p>

And so Zargulg introduced Harry to him. The Director sat up straight at hearing that and ordered Zargulg to tell him everything after that. Zargulg started from the beginning when Harry had tried to exchange muggle money to wizarding and had been taken 'downstairs' by Snatchtooth. He explained the horrible treatment given by the two goblins at which the Director cursed under his breath. He then went on to explain what Harry had told him about just finding out about everything from the forged signature to Dumbledore's failure at fulfilling his responsibilities as a guardian.

Director Ragnuk sat in silence for a minute as he let everything sink in. The goblins were already treated as lesser beings by the wizards and his workers had just goblin-handled _the _Harry Potter, _the _Boy-Who-Lived, the one wizard that was as idolized as greatly among the wizards as the first Gringott was among the goblins. If word ever got out about the incident, it'd be enough to start a whole new war! The wizards would unite in their love for the boy and their hatred for goblinkind.

There was also the matter with Dumbledore. If he was truly lying to the bank, it would be all the warmongers in his own ranks would need to push for the war they so desperately wanted. They were young goblins who rightly believed themselves wronged by the wizards. Once war started they would stop at nothing less than Dumbledore's own head. And of course, Dumbledore was as wise as he was old. He would not fall so easily to the accusations of goblins. He would've covered his tracks well and the wizards would naturally support him over goblins.

Ragnuk sighed again. He was too old for this. He'd lived through the last war and it hadn't been pretty. The terms that ended it were never in the favor of goblins, but they had accepted at the time in the hopes of a brighter future. To wage war now would undo a century of work. And to think this mighty problem stemmed from a single boy.  
>As Ragnuk contemplated the situation, Harry finally had a chance to look about properly. He saw that the room was extensively furnished. It was full of paintings of old goblins, decorated with shining armor and wicked weapons. But past all the adornments, as Harry looked around he began to feel the power that was laying there. It was the same way he felt his own magic, or the way he saw past the magic hiding the Leaky Cauldron. However, unlike the haze surrounding the bar or his own magic when he lashed out with it, this was too vast and powerful to be seen. It also felt... different somehow. It was magic, but it was rougher than his own or the kind that hung around Diagon Alley.<p>

"This is a grave matter. Utgaroar, bring Snatchtooth, Scarface and any other goblins associated with the mistreatment of Mr. Potter here immediately," ordered Ragnuk, snapping Harry out of his observations. A goblin stepped forth from around the golden doors, unseen before. It was wearing a black cloak and a mask covering its mouth and nose. It dropped to a knee as it responded with a "yes, my liege," before rushing out the door. "Mr. Potter you have my utmost apologies on your disdainful treatment at the hands of my workers."

"Oh, it's no big deal. They didn't even hurt me, just tied me up. I'm used to worse. My uncle wouldn't even consider that a warm up to his usual stuff," said Harry nonchalantly, as the jaws of both goblins dropped and Zargulg stammered out incoherent sounds.

Ragnuk was not one to be easily at a loss for words. In fact he couldn't remember the last time it happened. But he was at a loss now. The Boy-Who-Lived was being abused? How was that even possible? He shook his head of the thoughts and cleared his throat. There were more pressing matters to be dealt with.

"Be that as it may, we are in your debt. I will personally see to it that you are provided the best service throughout your life here to recompense for those goblins' manners. And rest assured, they and any others who may have offended you will be thoroughly punished."

Harry couldn't believe it! Someone was apologizing to him for mistreating him and promising retribution on those who did it. It would have been an unimaginable thought just yesterday. He grinned as he realized he suddenly had a liking for this Ragnuk fellow. Ragnuk frowned as he thought Harry's smile meant he was going to take advantage of Ragnuk's words. He cursed himself in offering something so open ended in his moment of surprise. Just because he was a boy did not stop him from being a wizard. What if he said Ragnuk had offended him? The Director would have no choice but punish himself or risk losing his honor. He couldn't take back the offer, but he could try to redirect the boy.

"I do hope it was only those goblins who offended you, Mr. Potter? If Zargulg has as well, of course he will be removed from the management of your accounts and stripped of rank," proclaimed Ragnuk as Zargulg's jaw dropped and he tried to protest his innocence.

"Oh, no Mr. Zargulg has been very kind and helpful, sir. And please call me Harry."

Again the the Director was at a loss for words. A _wizard_ child referring to a _goblin_ as sir? It was completely unheard of! Wizards were always curt at best. They only tolerated goblins because the goblins held their money. And yet here was this boy, not only turning down an open ended offer to debase as many goblins as he wanted, but he was also being polite and _friendly_ with complete sincerity. And that's when it fully hit him. This boy, despite his fame, despite the fact that every single wizard in the world knew his name, had been denied his part in their world. As such he was raised without their prejudices and mindsets. He was a child, a blank slate. And yet given that same background, this boy could easily grow to be the next Minsiter of Magic or Supreme Mugwump. This was a golden opportunity he hadn't even dreamed of. If he could ally himself to the boy, make Harry Potter indebted to him, then in a couple decades when he was a formidable force, he could call upon that debt and perhaps change the turn around the fate of his race. As long as the boy didn't let the fame and status get to his head and become a bumbling oaf like that Lockhart idiot, anyway. Well investments were always risky, and Ragnuk was always the best at it, that's how he came to lead the Goblin Nation. He decided then and there he would invest in the boy and make sure he learned what he needed.

"Ah, yes, well Mr. Pot, er I mean Harry has also been most polite and wonderful," said Zargulg. "Bogrod mentioned he was polite from the minute he entered, even to the likes of Snatchtooth."

"It seems we owe you more than I first suspected, Mr. Potter," muttered Ragnuk, ignoring the offer to call him just Harry. "For a goblin to mistreat a client such as yourself, is a grave dishonor among our kind."

"Um, thank you, sir. Would it be okay to ask you for a favor then?" asked Harry timidly.

Ragnuk scowled slightly as he nodded his head. Time to see the boy's true colors. Would he want gold? Or perhaps some precious goblin artifact.

"I'd like to know exactly what's going on with Dumbledore. I want to know everything you can tell me about him and his relation to me and my parents. Also please let me know if you know anything about them and about the Potter account. I'm very ignorant on everything in the magical world, it's people and workings."

Ragnuk grinned as he realized he suddenly had a liking for this child. He asked for not monetary reward, but information. He was smart for a child and knew the true value of things.

"But of course. We would've naturally supplied you with that as you are the heir of the Potter fortune and deeply involved in this mess. Zargulg, do you have the necessary information? If not get it, now."

"Yes, sir! I have the Potter accounts here, but I'll go get the information we have on Dumbledore. I suspect I'm authorized to view his accounts and transactions?"

"Yes, go and bring them," ordered Ragnuk. Zargulg nodded politely to Harry as he took his leave.

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it," said Harry.

Before Ragnuk could reply, Utgaroar came back with a couple of other guards, escorting Snatchtooth, Scarface and the two guards that had dragged Harry to the lower levels.

"Here they are my liege," said Utgaroar as he pushed them forward. "We caught Snatchtooth on the way to the floo network, about to make a call."

Ragnuk sneered at the goblins before him. "You four have greatly dishonored our nation tonight. To mistreat a customer is already bad enough in our line of business, but to mistreat a wizard like this one is utterly disgraceful. And you, Snatchtooth. Who were you planning on calling?"

Snatchtooth didn't answer other than to curl up his lip in a sneer as he glared at Harry.

"Let me guess. Was it Dumbledore?" continued Ragnuk. The director grinned as Snatchtooth's and Scarface's faces gave him all the answer he needed. "Take these four to where they took our guest here, and find out everything they're hiding."

The guards started dragging them away along with Utgaroar.

"Tch! You'll never get anything from us," growled Scarface before he was silenced by an elbow from Utgaroar.

"You forget Scar, was it not Utga who taught you everything you know about interrogation?" asked Ragnuk, smirking as he flicked his wrist impatiently for them to be taken away.

"I apologize you had to see that Mr. Potter, but rest assured they will be dealt with."

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry.

"Why don't you take a seat and tell me how you discovered the magical world while we wait for Zargulg?" suggested Ragnuk.

Harry sat across the desk from him and told him of his story starting from Dudley's birthday. Ragnuk stared with growing admiration as he realized the boy was being cruelly abused and had unlocked his magic through it.

Finally Zargulg returned carrying a large file with him. He opened it up along with the Potters' file and spread various papers across the desk as he began explaining them.

Harry didn't understand most of the technical language, but they dumbed it down for him. Basically, the Potter accounts were one of the banks largest customers, about the fifth richest account in the country, directly behind the Malfoys. Harry's vault had been set up in such a way that he was granted a trust vault until he reached the age of maturity or claimed the Head of House title at which point he would gain access to the main vault. Each year the vault was to be filled with 30,000 galleons with an initial 30,000 having been used to open the account at his birth. Harry could withdraw 3,000 at most within a given amount of time. Anymore and he'd need the permission of his magical guardian. The rest went to his basic necessities, a portion was given to his care takers, medical emergencies that might come up and in the future would pay for his schooling. There was a list of several transactions made every year from his vault as well as the Potters' main vault. From the main account, 5,000 galleons were bequeathed to Dumbledore every year to fulfill his roles as Harry's guardian. 10,000 galleons were taken from Harry's personal vault for his "needs and care", the most that a guardian could withdraw in a given year. The money was transferred to the vault of Elphias Dodge. Harry was told the man was a close friend of Albus Dumbledore and Special Advisor to the Wizengamot (which apparently was the highest court of law of the magical world). When Harry replied that he had never heard of the man, Zargulg looked scandalized. He said the man was listed in the private documents as Harry's caretaker. Further scrutiny of the transaction revealed that 100 galleons were converted to muggle money and transferred to the Dursleys. The rest was used for various purposes, going to a wide number of people and even into Hogwarts' scholarship funds.

Harry growled in fury and his magic flared as he realized the Dursleys had been paid to take 'care' of him. They were given money to basically treat him like a slave and beat him whenever they liked. He clenched his fists as he tried to get his simmering magic under control. Someone was going to pay for this.

"This is clearly theft! The man ought to be thrown into Azkaban!" exclaimed Zargulg, flailing his arms about in disgust. Ragnuk, however, was silent as he stroked his chin broodingly over the document.

"And yet he will not," he finally grated out.

"What? Why not? Don't we have all the proof we need here?" asked Harry.

Ragnuk stared at him before replying. "There are things you need to learn, and learn fast if you wish to survive in the Wizarding World, Mr. Potter. Unlike you, wizards are not _polite_ to goblins. They tolerate us only because of this bank," he explained as he waved his hand around the room, his features growing angrier as he continued. "We keep their money safe and grow their fortunes so they allow us this land to reside in. We cannot walk around elsewhere as we please. We are denied wands and labeled as magical creatures on the same level as dragons, grindylows, unicorns, and the like even though we are a sentient and intelligent race. If we go against Dumbledore, we'd have to go in _their_ court of law, through _their_ Department of Magical Creatures. Even with the backing of the "Boy-Who-Lived", goblins simply cannot be allowed to win against a wizard of Dumbledore's standings. Their aristocracy would never allow such a thing to happen as it would make them feel vulnerable. Any documents we produce will be declared frauds, a scheme of the goblins to usurp a powerful and noble wizard while Dumbledore's excuses would be accepted as law. Worst comes to worst, it would be enough to start a war between our races.

"_You _cannot do anything. At least not until you are much older. At that time if you prove to be a powerful wizard as I suspect you will, you can use your power and influence to challenge the thief. If you try anything now as a boy, it will be seen as goblins influencing an innocent boy and using him for their cold blooded schemes. As an adult it will be your word, along with the goblins that you use as emassets/em against the word of Dumbledore. Then you will have a chance."

"B-but what am I supposed to do until then? I have to let this man I've never met be my guardian and steal from me unchallenged? I can't let that happen! _I won't_ let that happen!" declared Harry, his magic flaring once again in pure defiance.

Ragnuk chuckled as he sized up Harry. "And what could you do in your current state? I admire your courage, but you've only just discovered your magic or the fact that you've been wronged your whole life. Dumbledore is heralded as the greatest wizard of his time, one who was feared by the last two Dark Lords. He is also a master of politics, being the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot He is the Headmaster of one of the oldest and most acclaimed magical schools, holder of an Order of Merlin, First Class. You, on the other hand, are only the Boy-Who-Lived, the defeater of the Dark Lord. While that may sound like a great title, it is only that. As a ten year old, you are a tool to be used for rallying the light wizards and witches. You are a symbol, an idol, a figurehead. You hold no power, no sway, and most of all, no authority of your own. If you challenge Dumbledore publicly, you will most certainly have supporters in those fanatical enough to think you are _special_ since you defeated Voldemort," went on Ragnuk, smirking as Harry bristled more and more with each word. He felt himself beginning to shake with fury at the way the goblin said the word special, something he had always told himself to bear through the taunts of his relatives. "But those supporters will be the poor, uneducated, feeble-minded, and politically weak. Those who have power and wisdom will support Dumbledore because with him they can expect a return on their support. Supporting a boy, popular as he may be, would simply be a waste of time, a…"

"Enough," growled Harry as he barely held his magic back from blasting into the cruelly smirking goblin. "I have been a prisoner, a slave all my life. Today is the first day I felt free. Now you tell me I'm still a prisoner to this Dumbledore. I don't care what you say! I _won't_ stay a prisoner any longer! Empty my vaults. If there is no money, he can't take it. I'll take my money and go somewhere else."

"Calm, Mr. Potter," replied Ragnuk, putting up his hand while Zargulg watched the two argue quietly, knowing better than to interrupt the Director. "As Zargulg said earlier, you can only withdraw a thousand galleons without Dumbeldore's permission and I suspect he will know if you withdraw less." He held up a hand to stop Harry from protesting and continued on. "I told you there are things you need to learn and learn fast to survive. I was simply informing you of some of those. I will not apologize for the things I said, harsh as they may be, because some things need to be said. I can tell from your brashness and disregard for the consequences you will be a good fit for Gryffindor."

"Well what do you expect?! You're telling me there's nothing I can do and expect me to sit and take it?" growled Harry, believing Gryffindor to be some kind of insult.

Ragnuk chuckled again; completely aware of how close he was bringing himself to being blasted by Harry's pubescent magic. "I never said there's _nothing_ you can do. I only recall asking you what you could do and pointing out something that would be entirely foolhardy. You cannot overthrow Dumbledore yet, if that is what you wish. However, there are some steps you can take to protect and remove yourself from him. We goblins can assist with that. There are ancient rules and laws, ignored or forgotten by wizards, which may apply to here and now…" ended the goblin slyly.

"Tell me!" demanded Harry.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN<strong>: As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!  
><em>Special thanks to fantasyimagining for betaing this chapter!<em>  
>Have a great day!<p> 


	4. Birds of a Feather Flock Together

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord

Chapter 4: Birds of a Feather Flock Together

"Tell me!" demanded Harry again as Ragnuk simply stared at him.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, have you heard of the saying 'revenge is a dish best served cold'? You may not know, but it is actually of goblin origin. Patience is a trait goblins look highly upon. It is needed if one wishes to turn a worthwhile profit, and it is needed to exact justice."

"If you're trying to tell me I have to wait till I'm older…" growled Harry.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," interrupted Ragnuk. "For now, all you can do is endure. Patience is indeed a virtue, another thing you must learn. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Potter, we owe you for the mistreatment you suffered under those fools. For that I offer you a place to sleep here for a few nights and will lend you money so you don't have to use your account and alert Dumbledore. You can, of course, pay it back, interest free this once, when you have access to your account. I do wish to assist you against Dumbledore, but your overly Gryffindorish nature is causing me to reconsider. Going against Dumbledore is not a matter taken lightly and I refuse to support a foolish boy with no patience against the Leader of the Light. We goblins are masters of business, and successful business men only risk what they can afford. You are an unusual wizard with potential so I am willing to risk it, but only if you show yourself competent. You may call it selfish, but we goblins call it preservation."

Harry bit back a retort and took a deep breath. He didn't like the change in tone of the goblin, but he knew this was his only option. The goblins were rough, but he could tell they were sincere and honest, unlike most of the people in his life. He liked that even if they were harsh.

"All right. Please tell me how."

"The law I spoke of is useless until your eleventh birthday, which if I'm not mistaken is a year and a month from now. As long as you are under Dumbledore's guardianship, you are completely helpless against him. Normally in Wizarding society, one must reach the age of maturity, 17, to be completely freed from their guardians," stated Ragnuk. "Fortunately for you, House Potter is a Noble and Ancient House. Back when such things were of weightier importance, there were provisions made to protect the honor and wealth of such Houses. You are the last of the Potters, for which you have my sincerest condolences," he said, actually sounding a bit sympathetic. "The law was made just for such an occasion, when the last heir to a Noble House was under the guardianship of another. To protect the House and their holdings in the case the guardian was abusing their powers, the law allowed the heir to be recognized as the Lord of the House, and as such an emancipated youth. However, also to protect the House, there were provisions put in place. The heir must reach the age of eleven and show a certain level of intelligence, maturity, have their magic awakened, and have a proper understanding of the wizarding world and its culture. You have already awakened your magic, and I believe you are intelligent and mature enough. All you have to do within the year is study up on the wizarding world. On your eleventh birthday, come to the bank and we can process the test and can call upon the ancient laws to emancipate you.'

Harry held in a groan as he imagined being a slave for another year. After having tasted freedom today for the first time in his life, he couldn't bear to allow anyone to manipulate him anymore. He wanted nothing more than to storm up to wherever Dumbledore was and blast him with his magic as he had done with the Dursleys. But Ragnuk was right. He was a weak little boy without even complete control over his magic. There was no way he could challenge the highest ranked wizard in Britain. His eyes shined with determination as he decided to endure and learn as much as he could. He'd endured 10 years already, and he would endure one more. And once he was free, then this Dumbledore would regret taking advantage of him.

"Thank you for all the help. I truly appreciate it. You won't regret risking it on me," said Harry with determination.

"Good," smiled Ragnuk. "Now it is late. You should rest. Zargulg will find you a place to sleep for the next few nights and we will provide you with the necessary galleons to survive a year on your own tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"If you truly wish to thank me, come visit me when you are older. We'll talk then."

* * *

><p>Harry made his way through Diagon Alley back to the book store the next morning. The goblins had provided him with a room somewhere in the bank and woken him up in the morning. They gave him breakfast, which was beyond amazing as it was an actual full plate of healthy food, and lent him a few hundred galleons and a magical pouch to carry them in, carefully writing them down in his accounts to be paid back later. Harry was grateful for their help and didn't begrudge them their harshness. He realized that it was just the way they were and the way they had to be to survive against the bigotry the wizards held against them. At least they were honest and straightforward unlike the Durselys. They would beat and curse him at home, but outside would treat him as if he were an angel.<p>

Harry snorted as he cleared his thoughts of them and walked into the store. He had a lot of reading to do if he was to qualify for the law.

"Ah! You're back. Good morning, um.. huh. Now that I think of it I never even asked for your name. How terribly rude of me," said the manager when he saw Harry.

"Good morning, sir. I'm James Evans. Do you mind if I read some more books?" Ragnuk had advised him to keep his identity hidden and Harry had come up with the name by using his parents'.

"A most fitting name! You can call me Mr. Flourish. And feel free!"

After thanking him Harry went and gathered the books he didn't finish last time, plus a few other interesting ones. He was supposed to be reading of the wizarding society, but couldn't help to pick up interesting books about magic. He went to the corner couch and plumped down and read them until after noon when he was distracted by his stomach. He got up and stretched, shaking his first ever pouch of his own money and smiled as he decided to go and treat himself to some food.

As he was about to leave the store, after waving to Mr. Flourish, when he noticed a large man push a kid onto one of the couches near where he had been sitting, much like how Vernon would push him into his closet. Harry frowned and moved a bit closer to hear.

"Damned squib. Why do I have to take care of you all day? Hmph. Just stay here and read your stupid books, useless lump. I'll be back to get you after I finish my business. Though if it weren't for your Grams, I'd throw your squib behind out. Disgraceful brat," said the large man as he picked up a random book and threw it to the boy and walked out, grumbling beneath his breath.

Harry scowled in anger as he saw the look on the boy, a blank look hiding what he truly felt. A look Harry saw in the mirror every day. He'd never seen anyone else treated even close to the way he was, especially not outside in the public. Harry pretended to stroll around the shelves for a minute before he walked over to the boy who had put aside the book his uncle tossed in favor of one of his choice.

"Hey! How are you doing? I'm Ha- er, James!" said Harry with a smile, extending his hand to the boy.

"I'm Ne-Neville," said the boy, looking surprised someone was talking to him.

"Nice to meet you! That looks like an interesting book."

"Oh this? It's just some story book about this giant who planted a huge bean stalk to get away from this terrorizing kid who kept taking all his things."

"You mean Jack and the Beanstalk? I thought that was the other way around? Anyway, I was going to get something to eat. Want to come? It'll be my treat!"

Neville looked shocked as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. "Er, um, I'd love to but I have to wait for my uncle here."

"When's he coming back?"

"Usually comes back around evening, after he's done with his work."

"Great, then we have plenty of time! Let's go!" said Harry as he took his hand and pulled him up. They went to a nearby café where they ordered a few sandwiches and drinks. Harry did most of the talking as Neville just nodded his head and ate quietly. He told him an improvised story about how he was muggleborn and found the wizarding world and how exciting it was. After he asked Neville about himself, Neville just told him he was from the Longbottom family and his favorite hobby was taking care of the plants in their greenhouse. Harry tried not to laugh at the name, he really did. It was just too funny.

"Sorry I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's fine. Everyone always makes fun of it," grumbled Neville.

Harry felt bad and changed the subject by ordering desert and asking him a bit more about the wizarding world. While they were eating, Harry stared hard at Neville when he wasn't looking, trying to see or feel any magic in him like he could feel it in the bank. After a while, he felt it in him, which confused him. Hadn't his uncle called him a squib?

After they were done they went back to the shop and read some books together in silence. At 7 pm, Neville's uncle finally came back, still grumbling and scowling.

"Get up you worthless squib. Damned boy, can't even apparate himself home," grumbled the man as he yanked Neville up by his arm and started to walk away.

"Stop that! He's not a squib!" growled Harry as he stood up.

"Huh? You say something boy?" growled back the uncle as he turned around and looked at Harry.

"Yeah I did. Stop calling Neville a squib! He's not! He's as magical as you and me!"

"What the hell do you know, boy? Mind your business. And you! You tell him something, huh?" demanded the uncle turning towards Neville and yanking his arm harder.

"N-no, Uncle Algie!" cried Neville, a look of shock in his eyes.

"I said stop it! You're hurting him," shouted Harry getting the attention of the few customers and the manager.

"Shut your face, boy! Who do you think you're talking to?"

"I don't care! Don't call Neville a squib and don't hurt him! He has magic in him, I can feel it. He has more than you do! You're the squib, not him!"

Algie's eyes widened in anger at that statement as he uncontrollably smacked Harry, sending him flying back on to the couch. The customers all gasped in shock, causing Algie to 'tsk' as he walked out dragging Neville along.

Harry got up, rubbing his cheek, but before he could go after them, a kind old lady rushed over to see if he was okay. Harry said he was fine, and he was. He was used to much worse than this from his own uncle. Harry looked out the window with a frown as he saw the uncle dragging Neville away. He sighed as he began to regret what he did. In his anger, he might have made it harder for Neville when he got home. He knew what that was like after all. He hoped he'd be able to see his first friend again soon and apologize. He hoped Neville wouldn't hate him for it. He never met someone who was like him and wanted nothing more than to be friends with him.

* * *

><p>"Damned boy, who the hell does he think he is? Me, a squib? Ha! I'll show him who's a squib. Come on, walk straight you buffoon. I'll show you too when we get home," growled Algie.<p>

In his angry grumblings, he was scowling and looking forward, missing the look on Neville's face. Usually he would be scared of his threats, but now there was shock in his eyes and a smile on his face.

No one had ever stood up for Neville before. No one had ever said he had magic or wasn't a squib. Least of all Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Yes, Neville knew, for when his Uncle smacked him, he saw Harry's hair and hat move back and spotted that trademark scar. He knew Harry must have lied about his name because he was supposed to be in hiding. But to think Harry Potter was just sitting there eating and reading like a normal kid! And he had taken the time to talk and eat with him, the useless squib! No, he wasn't a squib, he had magic; Harry Potter had said so! Neville did something he'd never done before: he ignored his uncle's ranting and threats. He was too focused on the thought that he was friends with Harry Potter! It was from that day onwards that Neville Longbottom swore his life and loyalty to Harry James Potter.

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: I know Neville was proven to have magic at age eight. But this is an AU. My AU. So I claim the right to bend the timeline to suit my needs. So ha. In this AU, Neville hasn't displayed magic yet, his uncle was more abusive as well, but hasn't put his life in mortal peril yet.

Anyway hope you guys enjoy, sorry for the late update, but I've found out I can only write when I feel like writing. So until next time!


	5. Independence

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord

Chapter 5: Independence

Once Neville left, Harry spent the rest of the day gloomily reading the books, hoping he didn't get Neville in too much trouble and hoped that the boy would still want to be friends with him. At dinner time, he went to grab a bite at the Leaky Cauldron before heading back to the bank.

Inside, Bogrod, the goblin that had been the one to warn Zargulg of his plight last time, stopped him, telling him that Ragnuk had ordered him to his office. There was no trace of Snatchtooth among the other tellers. Harry followed obediently into the gold office and took a seat, waiting for Ragnuk to address him.

"Well Mr. Potter, tonight is the last night you can stay at Gringotts. Wizards are generally not allowed to stay here except on business. Even if our works qualifies as such, it would be too suspicious to see a child walk in and out of here everyday. If wizards or even some goblins find out, it would be too troublesome. I'm sorry to say you must find lodging on your own for a year. I'd recommend the inn in Knockturn Alley. They don't ask questions as long as one pays up front. Speaking of which, we will be lending you what you would normally have received in a year, to, of course, be paid back on your eleventh birthday. If I may give further guidance," continued the goblin Lord, "Do not spend all your days in the book shop. Not only is it unfitting of a wizard of your status to live off of charity, it his highly suspicious of a young boy to spend his days away in book shops. Go buy a trunk and purchase some books to keep there. But first, do get a better disguise. One slip of that hat and you'll give the whole game away. Again I recommend the shop in Knockturn Alley to buy some second hand clothes. Yes you can afford the best of Madam Malkin's, but it's better to lay as low as possible. However, under no circumstances should you let your identity be revealed in that place. It is not the safest of places, especially for those aligned to the light. I wish you great luck in the future, Mr. Potter, for both of our sake. I'll see you in a year," finished Ragnuk as he leaned over to shake Harry's hand, waving for Bogrod to take him away.

The next morning, the goblins lent Harry enough money to last him until his birthday and a magically expanded, feather-light enchanted pouch to carry it in (Harry noticed they noted the pouch down as well when writing down how much he owed). After getting breakfast at a nearby shop, he made his first stop at the magical trunk shop. It was still fairly early and only the shop owner was there.

"Welcome!... How can I help you?" he said starting off sounding excited, but ending in a drawl when he saw the customer was just some kid.

"Good morning, sir! I'd like to buy a trunk."

"Standard school trunks are on that side," he mumbled.

"I was wondering if you have any enchanted ones?" asked Harry, after seeing how much his pouch could hold despite its small size.

"All trunks are enlarged inside by default. Some more than others. We have feather-light charms. Built in wards. Extra compartments. Hidden compartments. Etc. You can probably only afford the standard school trunks."

"Can I see them anyway, please?"

The shopkeeper sighed and led Harry around pointing out the chests and their unique features. The standard trunks were enchanted for more space and lighter while the more expensive ones had two or three compartments and more enchantments. Towards the back of the store were the advanced ones, with lots of compartments and heavily enchanted. They had built in wards to only be opened by certain wands or certain passwords. They were enlarged enough to be a room in and of themselves. What really caught Harry's eyes were the trunks that had built in rooms such as a potions lab or a library.

Harry ended up in front of a six compartment trunk. Each compartment was actually larger than the trunk itself, which blew Harry's mind. He couldn't wait to do magic like this. It was feather-light, ward protected and could obey simple orders such as tossing out an item from inside or move across the room. The first three compartments were similar to the standard school chest in that they were just enlarged space to hold his books or clothes. The other three were what really got Harry, though. They were large enough for him to actually go inside. The fourth was a potions laboratory. He was told it didn't have any ingredients, but rather cabinets that could store up to mid tier ingredients in preservable conditions. It also came with a free Theoretical Alchemy 101, which Harry thought sounded interesting. It had stoves and ovens and burners for making potions. It also contained cauldrons to brew with, but they couldn't be taken out. The next compartment was a small library. It contained shelves and was large enough to hold a few thousand books. The last compartment was a wide empty room. It was also the most heavily warded and could store large items that wouldn't fit in the first three. Each compartment opened by pressing your wand to its individual lock and stating the password you create for it.

"I want this one," declared Harry.

The shop keeper eyed him up and down, before scoffing and walking back to the counter. "I don't think you'll be able to afford that. 3000 Galleons."

Harry flinched at the absurd price. That was about 1/5 of the money he'd been given for the entire year. But it seemed reasonable, given all the things the chest offered. Harry really wanted it. Especially since he'd never gotten anything good before. Heck, he never even had money of his own to buy things with before. But he did have to survive an entire year on his own with just what he had. He'd have to buy books to read throughout the year to learn everything he could about this fascinating world. Books cost a couple of galleons at the most. Meals were in the sickles and Ragnuk had given him an estimate on the inn costs. Clothes wouldn't cost much either if he was going to keep buying used ones as the goblin had recommended. Doing some quick calculations in his head, he figured he should have enough if he bought nothing else major.

Just as he was about to tell the owner he was going to buy it, the shop keeper spoke up.

"I know it's a nice chest and you really want it. Maybe when you're older and working you can come back and get it. Tell you what, I'll hold on to it for you. Until then just buy a standard school one and I'll even give you a little discount," he said patronizingly.

"Hmmm. Do you have any enlarged backpacks?" asked Harry, ignoring his comments.

"Backpacks? You mean those hideous things the muggles carry on their bags? Ha! Why would wizards wear something so unfashionable? I have some enlarged pouches."

"Can you put this trunk inside a enlarged pouch? And what are the best kind of pouches?" asked Harry, not wanting to drag a huge chest around all the time, even if it was feather light.

"Yes you can, though I don't see why you would want to. The chest can move on it's own. And the best kind are mokeskin," ground out the shopkeeper, fighting hard to keep his patience in check.

"Well I'll want this trunk. If you really want to give me a discount, will you throw in a free mokeskin pouch that can hold it?" said Harry as he waked toward the counter.

"Hahaha! Kid, did you not hear me? It's 3000 galleons," scowled the keeper. "If you can save up 3000, I'd give you a pouch for free!"

Harry smirked as he casually took out the moneybag the goblins had given and placed it on the counter, chanting "three thousand galleons" over it as gold flowed out and filled the counter top while the shopkeeper jaw dropped and eyes widened. As much as he hated the Dursleys, especially his uncle, they had taught him something. Well not directly, but he had learned through observation.

"Um... um... ah... Okay. But you know, um, moke skin is pretty expensive too..." said the man as he reached over and grabbed a enchanted pouch, eyeing the gold hungrily.

Harry stared at him for a while before he slowly started putting the gold back into his pouch. "So not only are you rude to a customer, but you also go back on your word. I suppose I should go look for another trunk shop." Harry almost felt bad for the man as he started panicking. If Vernon were here, he'd have bled the man dry.

"Huh? N-nonsense! I was just kidding! I'll give you the pouch. Besides you wouldn't find a better trunk anywhere in the Wizarding World!" the man claimed.

"Mhm. I have a question though. You said the wards are triggered by magical signature of my wand. What if I don't have a wand?"

"You don't have a wand yet? Well I can hold on to it until you go buy your wand. Or I can set it so it'll react to the first magic signature to touch it. The wards will go up then and you can set the password too. Just be careful your parents don't trigger it with theirs. Speaking of which who are your parents anyway?" asked the man.

"I'll take the second option please. And I'm muggleborn. They just happen to be very wealthy muggles."

"Then why are you clothes so ra- er I mean, um I'll set it up right away," said the shop keeper as he went over to the trunk and started twiddling with it.

"Muggle fashion," replied Harry, not wanting to give the man unnecessary suspicions.

"Oh ok. Well I'll be done in a jiffy."

After 10 minutes and 3350 galleons shorter (tax, warranty and the full ward set), Harry was the proud owner of a magical trunk. It was warded anti-fire, anti-water, anti-rust, anti-combustion, to only open on his magic signature when he registered it, recognizing simple voice commands, and a few other nifty ones.

Harry thanked the man, put the trunk in his new mokeskin pouch and went off to find his next destination. His next stop would be the clothes shop Ragnuk had recommended in Knockturn Alley.

However as he turned into the alley, it was like dwelling into another world. Gone was the cheery and light atmosphere of Diagon Alley. The alley was dark and damp, shaded under ominous clouds, ever present as if they were part of the place. Harry gulped and forced himself to keep walking forward as he saw the few occupants of the alley. They were dressed in darks blending in to their surroundings perfectly. Harry stuck out like a sore thumb even with his faded out, second hand clothes. He kept walking, trying to ignore the strange looks he got from surrounding witches and wizards.

Arriving at Wizarding Supplies, he went inside the dark store. It was as creepy as the rest of the Alley, with battered, old, and second hand versions of the items in Diagon Alley. The owner was a short, pale witch, that looked almost offended to see Harry walk in. Not wanting to stay too long, Harry grabbed the first clothes that seemed to fit him and brought them to the counter. He only grabbed a few pieces, but the most important were a dusty, faded orange cap that was probably the brightest item in the store and embroidered with Chudley Cannons on it, and a dark black head band to wrap over his forehead in case the hat was knocked off or his hair was blown aside.

The witch sneered at him as she folded up the objects, putting them in a bag and asked for three galleons. Harry realized he was probably being ripped off, but not wanting to stay inside any longer, he handed them over, went to the changing room to change and stow the rest into his chest, and rushed out.

His next stop was the White Wyvern, a pub and inn that Ragnuk had recommended. He hurried inside, only to regret it as the noise came to a halt as he stepped inside. The patrons inside looked him over once before dismissing him as another disowned squib urchin. Harry swallowed his anxiety, reminding himself that it was either this or the Dursleys. He'd rather live alone in a creepy place with his freedom and magic than spend another day in their house as a slave. He walked up to the bartender and asked for a room.

"Fer a small bed and room, plus two meals a day, it'll be a galleon a night, boy. But I'm not allowed to host kids on their own without a legal guardian's consent," scoffed the man as he waved his wand to clean a glass.

"Um, I was told this place wouldn't ask questions," mumbled Harry.

"One galleon fer the room, and four fer mindin' me business, then."

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes, but had no choice but to pull out the coins and hand them over. The man grinned as he nodded up. "Room's third on the right. Meals at 7 in the mornin' and evenin'."

"Thanks," he said as he went up to it. It was a spartan room, with a dingy old bed and a single dresser. The only source of light was a single window. Harry assumed you were supposed to cast some spell for light, but he didn't even have a wand let alone know how to cast those spells. He paused at that thought, a cold chill crawling down his back. He was supposed to be a wizard in the middle of a magical town and he didn't even know how to cast a single spell. He could only barely feel his magic if he focused on it and had almost no actual control over it unless he was enraged like before. All of a sudden he felt really vulnerable and ran out of the pub, heading back down the road. He needed a wand, but in one of the early books he'd read, it said children weren't officially allowed wands until they were eleven. Hopefully he could get away with it by getting one from the shady Alley with a bit of extra money. He found the wand shop, labelled Msaw Ætare.

As he walked into the gloomy shop a bell a crow or maybe a raven, Harry wasn't quite sure, cawed and flew to the back of the shop, startling Harry. He looked around to see wands of all shapes and sizes strewn all over the counter and more filling up boxes on the shelves. Some seemed no more than twigs, he even saw one that had branches attached to it. On the counter was a name plate labeled Edgar P. Selwyn.

A hunched back old man walked out of the back of the shop, leaning on a gleaming silver cane that contrasted with the gray surroundings, with the black bird resting on his shoulder.

"Ah, come for a wand, have you?" he wheezed out in a scratchy voice.

"Um, yes Mr. Selwyn? I need one for going to Hogwarts," replied Harry.

"Very good. Well come and try them out," said the man, gesturing to a pile of wands.

"Try them?" asked Harry.

"Yes, a wand chooses it's wizard, boy. Test them till one finds you worthy."

Harry did as the wizard instructed, lifting up a wand, but nothing happened. He looked at the man, confused.

"Keep going. You'll know when you find one that fits."

Harry spent the next hour or so going though piles of wands not getting a single positive reaction to any of them. Some of the wands did react to his magic, surging it forward to send the boxes flying and explaining the mess in the shop, but before Harry could rejoice, Selwyn snatched them from him, explaining that it was not compatible. Some even felt 'bad' to hold like the magic in the wand Harry's own were the same poles of a magnet and couldn't fit together while one physically stung him.

"This is bullocks. None of these work. Why do you even have so many wands? Are there really that many wizards?" complained Harry as he tried his one hundred and seventh wand.

"Not anymore," answered the old man, handing him another wand. "Most of these wands are from older generations. A wand doesn't necessarily die with its owner. It may have been that the wand never found a true owner, or maybe it did, but wishes for a new one. Used wands are quite powerful, maybe more so than new ones even, having had the magic of their masters imbued in them over the course of the wizard or witch's lifetime. That is why many Dark Lords hunt renowned wands of previous lords. There are even rumors the most powerful wand of all, the Elder Wand, is still floating about, looking for a true master, cursing those who own it without right," explained the man as he took the wand back from Harry, it too having failed to connect with his magic. "Ah, hold on, boy, I think I have a sense of your magic now. Antioch, fetch me Mazhar's wand, won't you?" said the wizard, shrugging his shoulders as the bird flew off to do his bidding. "Useful to have a familiar, eh?"

"A familiar?" asked Harry as he waited for the bird.

"A bit out of fashion, but much more useful than a pet. All the greatest wizards had them. Only the fools nowadays look down upon it."

Just then Antioch came back with a box from the back, this own considerably better taken care of then most of those in the front portion of the shop.

"Tell me, my boy, have your parents read you Beedle the Bard's tales?" asked Selwyn as he opened the case to reveal a dark colored wand that curved up after the handle and back down again. The tip of the wand was thin and split into two as if it were two fangs.

"Umm, no.." responded Harry causing the old wizard to scowl.

"Bah, bet you're from one of them 'light' families. No damned respect for their heritage, I tell you. Not muggle born at least, I can tell that much. Still pity if she chooses you. Beedle's tales make mention of two wands. The Elder Wand, the most powerful one in existence and this one, Altheda's wand. Both thought to be a figment of fiction, but mark my words, boy, both are real. Altheda was the original owner, but she was robbed by the Dark Lord Mazhar. The ignorant just label it as another example of the evils of dark wizards, as they randomly assault peaceful folks. Bah! He only wanted the wand. Hawthorn, 13 inches, and a core of Thestral hair. Powerful, resilient, hard to use, harder to tame. Powerful in healing magic and curses. Funny that, eh? Blood magics too, I suspect. The Sewlyn's are descended from Mazhar and we've had this wand ever since he fell, only one other had a minor connection with it to this day. Give her a try," ordered the wizard as he handed the wand to Harry, handle first.

As soon as Harry grabbed the wand, he knew it was a correct one, just like Selwyn had said he would. He couldn't describe exactly how he felt, but he just knew it was right. He could feel the loose, uncontrollable magic in him align starting from the base of the wand right down to his core. The wand itself took that magic, molding it into its core, almost singing at it, and emitted an eerie glow.

Selwyn looked on in shock as his familiar cawed. "Bah, I did not think it would actually find you worthy. Most interesting. Who are you boy?"

"Um, Har- er, Harold J-James Evans, sir," replied Harry, distracted by the euphoric sensation of the wand and almost saying his name before remembering not too.

"Evans? Bah! I knew you were no pureblood. Just my luck. If it weren't for the wand choosing you, I'd have kicked you out right now. Oh the shame, what will they say, Old Edgar let Mazhar's wand fall so low."

"Does blood purity really matter all that much sir? I mean, doesn't the wand choosing me prove it doesn't care about that?"

The old wizard looked stumped for a second before he scowled. "Don't you lecture me, boy. I don't know what the wand sees in you."

As if on cue, the wand began shaking in his hand and Harry felt it push against his magic. He felt it heat up as the aligned magic fell apart swiftly and Harry could barely hold on to it.

"She's testing you. Told you she's a hard one to tame. Don't you dare let go, boy. Pure blood or not, you're the first one to connect to this wand in a long time. As much as I'd love to see you damned, the wand deserves to be wielded. Don't fail her, boy."

Harry held on firmly as the wand got even hotter. He felt am odd tingle go along his scar as it started to ache a bit and he had to hold his forehead to try to ease the pain. He grit his teeth, holding tighter until the wand settled down again and the pains disappeared as swiftly as they had come. "Um, I'll try not to sir. Thank you."

"Don't thank me boy. That'll be 10 galleons. I'll throw in a wand holster for another two."

Harry handed over the dozen gold coins, tucking the wand into his apparently 'battle' holster which attached to his wrists on the inside of his sleeves. Harry no longer felt vulnerable. Now he was truly independent.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN<span>**: For some reason I like reading expositional chapters, but apparently I hate writing them.

Anyway hope you guys enjoy. I'd appreciate feedback as always! Thanks!

Till next time, and may you be blessed with the best of this world and the next.


	6. Magic Tastes Disgusting

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord

Chapter 6: Magic Tastes Disgusting

Harry walked out of the wand shop, keeping the wand's tip just out of the holster so he could still feel it at the base of his palm. Somehow it made him feel a lot more secure and he enjoyed how it let him feel his magic more clearly. He strode back down to the pub, but on the way there he saw a book store. Like the rest of the alley it was also dark and gloomy. Seriously, what was up with this place? Didn't any of them know that a bit of sunlight is good for the skin?

He stepped inside, curious to see if it was similar to Flourish and Blott's bookstore.

It was much smaller and had far fewer books than the store on Diagon Alley. An old wizard was dozing off at the counter. Not wanting to wake him up, Harry tip toed through the aisles. To his surprise after the first two rows which consisted of old magical books that he'd seen in Flourish and Blott's, almost all the books seemed to be about Dark Magic. It started off innocent enough, with books like _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, _Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners _and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, _but each row got distinctly more and more darker with books like, _Magic Moste Evile_, _Darkest Curses, _and _Darkness Beckons_. Other than _T__he Rise and Fall of the Dark arts _and the _Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners_ books, Harry didn't pick any of the rest up. He barely knew anything about magic or how it was light or dark and there was no way he was going near something so ominous sounding before finding out what it was about.

As he was backtracking to the front aisles, he saw a book about familiars and decided to pick it out as well as he remembered the wand maker's bird and his words on the subject. From the first two rows he picked out a dozen other books, some that he hadn't finished in Flourish and Blotts and some new ones. They were all mostly introductory level books about magic or wizarding society and a couple harmless charms to try out. Harry couldn't wait to try those out especially now that he had a wand. Once he actually thought about it he hadn't actually done any actual magic in terms of spellcasting or charms. He'd only blasted his magic out in fits of rage and only twice at that. His enthusiasm to start reading and doing the spells gave him the courage to go up to the dozing shop keeper and wake him up to purchase the books. After much grumbling, Harry managed to pay for them and put them in his enchanted pouch as he went back to the inn.

Once he was back in his room he emptied the books out on his bed and took out his trunk.

"Alright, time for the first bit of wand magic," grinned Harry as he took his wand out, the stick fitting in his hand as if it were made for it. He pointed at the trunk and waved it about, but nothing happened. Frowning he waved it again, but again nothing happened. This time even the wand seemed to be getting ticked off at his lack of prowess and seemed to grumble as the magical connection between them throbbed and stung at his palm.

"Ouch! Calm down! It's my first time doing real magic," grumbled back Harry as he stopped waving it and jumped on his bed, opening the _Book of Spells_ he'd also purchased. He needed to figure out how to control his magic and the best way for that should be to try casting a spell. He flipped through the book for an easy spell. He stopped at the wand lighting one until he read the part where it could damage his wand permanently. Deciding to skip that one for now, he slipped to the repairing spell. It seemed easy enough and quite useful too. He picked up a quill from atop the dresser and broke it, placing it on top of his trunk. He stepped back, took a deep breath, aimed his wand at it, and closed his eyes. Focusing on the feel of his magic as it ran through his wand, he waved it as the picture had shown and said the magic word. "Reparo!"

BOOOOOM!

His magic erupted out smashing into his trunk and sending it crashing against the opposite wall while he was flung back on his bed from the backlash. His wand 'screeched' in anger as it 'bit' at his hand, causing him to yelp and drop it in pain. Getting up groggily, he saw the trunk stuck in the wall, plaster falling around it, the broken quill no where in sight.

"Well that didn't work," grumbled Harry.

The door to the room flew open as the owner flew in looking quite enraged.

"What in Merlin's name is going on up here? What the hell did you do to my wall?" roared the man.

"Er sorry. It was accidental magic," replied Harry, hiding his wand and not exactly lying.

"I'm putting that on your tab! Money or not, one more bout of this and you're outta here!"

"Sorry, sir."

Ironically enough, the man cast the same spell to fix the mess that Harry had used to create it after he'd levitated the chest out of the wall. It worked perfectly for him though, causing Harry to frown in annoyance. After more grumbling and lecturing, the man finally left, closing the door behind him.

Harry sighed and took out his wand which still seemed angry at him. He didn't even know how a wand could feel anger or anything else for that matter, but somehow he could tell. Another thing he noticed was that the magic swirling inside him seemed slower than usual, as if someone turned the full tap on the sink down to a trickle. He assumed it was because he'd used up so much of it in the backfiring of the spell.

"Why didn't that work? I cast the exact spell he did," pondered Harry. He'd have to find a better place to practice magic at seeing as he couldn't afford another accident like this. But that'd take a while to find the right place and Harry wanted to do magic _now_. He'd gone his whole life being told he was a freak and trying to hide his powers and now that he could use them, they didn't work. It just wasn't fair. Sighing again he went to pick up his books and put them away in his trunk, but he saw one that made him pause. It was titled _Magical Drafts and Potions_ written by Arsenius Jigger. He'd picked it up out of curiosity, wanting to know more about potions. He picked it up and walked over to the trunk, wanting to go inside to the potions lab to see how it was even possible to fit in there as well as get the potions book that came along with it. As he tried to open it, however, it stung him.

"Ouch!" he yelped as he pulled his hand back and rubbed it. "Did it break?" he wondered until he saw the lock shining. He recalled the shop keeper had told him this would happen when the locks had absorbed the magical signature that would be needed to unlock them. He also recalled how the wizard has said it would react to the first magic done upon it and he grew pale when he imagined that to be the innkeeper's spell.

"Oh no, no, no, no! I paid 3000 galleons for this! Please let it work!" he stammered as he hastily pulled all the blankets and pillows from the bed and piled them up against the wall and behind the trunk. He had less magic now, so hopefully it wouldn't do any damage, but he wanted to be safe just in case. After he was done setting up, he pressed his wand against the lock of the trunk and was glad he'd took the precautions as the trunk slide back against the pillows, creating only a dull _thud_ this time. Harry sunk to the floor as he felt even more magic drain out of him, the tap turned down to just a few drops now. He crawled forward again to test the trunk and let out a huge sigh of relief when it popped open. Remembering the next step was to put up passwords for it. He opened each compartment separately, muttered a password over them, and closed them again, as the wizard had instructed. Once done, he reopened the potions compartment (the password being wolfsbane, an ingredient name he'd found flipping through the potions book), and marveled as a dim light went on inside his trunk and stairs appeared that descended down into nothingness. Hesitantly, he crawled down them into a small room lit by candle. It had a few tables, each with different utensils on them. The room was lined all around by shelves of varying sizes. On the middle table, next to a large cauldron was the book that came with the room as the trunk seller had promised. He opened it up and started reading. It described the basics of potion making, the necessity of them, examples of common ingredients and potions, and highlighted the dangers of messing up the potions. It seemed as if even small mistakes could blow up in your face. By the time Harry grew tired of reading, it was time for dinner. He closed the book, crawled out of the trunk (that was definitely a worthy investment), and went down to eat and went back up to go to sleep, eager to get some ingredients and start brewing tomorrow.

* * *

><p>The next day, after getting breakfast, Harry rushed over to the nearest apothecary and bought some basic potions ingredients the book had mentioned as a good starting point, ignoring the shop keepers suspicious gaze. He rushed back to his room and trunk, crawling down into his personal potion lab. Placing the book on one side of the table he began reading the directions for a simple hair management potion. It was easy to make and had little side effects if brewed wrong other than temporarily changing hair color. Harry carefully followed the directions, cutting and smashing the ingredients with the tools provided by the lab and boiling them in the cauldron (he had to run down to get some water). After an hour of work, the potion looked ready. Harry sipped it, cringing at the horrible taste and went back to his room to see the results. His hair did seem a lot more settled, but also had a streak of blonde running down the side with a few more strands tinged red at the ends. Frowning, Harry went back to work and continued to work on potions all day long.<p>

By the end of the day he'd perfected the hair potion as well as made a laugh-inducing potion (that one kept him in the lab for a whole hour, filling the small room with his raucous laughter. It was annoying and hurt his ribs by the time it wore off, but was good stress relief. He'd also made a Manegro potion which made his hair grow down to his shoulders. Berating himself for his lack of foresight, he'd had to cut it off with the knife leaving his hair severely uneven. If only Aunt Putunia could see him now, she'd probably have a heart attack. He'd flipped further through the book and used his own hair to make a hiccoughing potion, but was a bit afraid to try that one due to the possible side effects if he'd brewed it wrong.

By that time it was late evening and he realized he'd missed dinner. He sighed in frustration, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't want to anger the owner any further and besides he was used to not eating everyday. Setting one last potion on the cauldron with the last of his ingredients (a Caxambu Style Borborygmus Potion), that would take all night to brew, Harry crawled into bed, picking up a random book from his pile. He'd have to remember to put them in the library of his trunk sometime. Flipping it open, he found it to be the book on familiars. Harry had only planned to read a few minutes until he fell asleep but the book was highly interesting and he stayed up two more hours reading through most of it.

It explained that familiars were more than just regular pets and had been widely used in previous times by all types of wizards and witches. Unlike muggle tales, they were rarely demons, but they were indeed always magical creatures. It explained that the popular myth of witches having cats as familiars actually originated from kneazles. The book recommended getting them or other intelligent animals such as ravens, owls, or fairies to be familiars as they were more useful. The book then went on to describe how the practice of using familiar started to go out of practice a century and a half ago. It was mainly due to the number of dark wizards that employed nasty creatures as familiars. They would employ some dreadful creatures to enhance their own intimidation and power. Some even went as far as to get trolls or arcomantulas. It was further ostracized as people began to view blood magics as dark, for forming a bond requires blood magic. Eventually through this combination, it was stigmatized as a borderline dark art, with light families refusing it all together and the older families abandoning it in favor of 'staying in fashion'. However, the author of the book went on to belittle this ideology as he described the great benefits of familiars. Creating a bond with a powerful or intelligent creature increased a wizard or witch's power according to the creatures own specialties. For example, bonding with a phoenix would increase a wizard's magical power and give them an affinity to fire and fire based spells, while bonding with a kneazle might enhance their senses and curiosity. It was a symbiotic relationship where the wizard gained an absolutely loyal friend and helper, while the creature in question gained power and prestige through the bond.

It was especially beneficial, albeit slightly hazardous, to allow a child to form a familiar bond. Not only did it stabilize their magic and give them better control of it, provide them with a protective companion and friend, but also increase the magical effects of a bond, strengthening it over time as the child and familiar grow together.

The book went on to list famous individuals who were known to have familiars, especially light sided wizards to prove that there was nothing dark in particular about them. Notably, it listed the four founders of Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin was rumored to have a basilisk, while Godric Gryffindor had an actual Gryffin. Helga Hufflepuff had an exceptionally magical badger while Rowena Ravenclaw kept several intelligent creatures including a raven and a kneazle with her most iconic being an eagle, showcasing her as the example that multiple familiars were possible. It even listed Dumbledore as having a phoenix familiar, to Harry's surprise, praising him for forming a bond with a creature so noble and majestic.

Finally the book listed the ways to form a bond with a familiar as well as some recommended creatures. There were two ways; one magical and the other potion based. The potion based was the one recommended for children, but it warned to only allow people with sufficient potion experience to attempt making it. He cringed at the listed ingredients, imagining having to drink that horrid solution.

Harry grew more and more excited as he read the book. It sounded like the perfect solution to help with his magic problem. He especially wanted one seeing as Dumbledore had one. Harry didn't like the idea of Dumbledore being praised everywhere he went, and he'd subconsciously resolved to show the wizard for what he truly was. He clutched his wand, his magic flowing over him, appeasing the powerful artifact, as he remembered the injustices done to him by Dumbledore's hand. He wouldn't lose to him and any advantage he could use to become more powerful than the so called leader of the light, he would use. His last thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep were of revenge and taming powerful beasts.

The next morning, the first thing Harry did was look in on the potion he was brewing from last night. The color seemed to match what the book said, but he'd have to test it out later.

He went downstairs to have a large breakfast to make up for last night's missed meal before once again heading off to the apothecary and purchasing a few weeks worth of ingredients. He stuffed them in his pouch before heading to Diagon Alley. He'd decided which animal he'd wanted as a familiar. Well forced to decide, really, as he would've opted for a phoenix or griffin, but the next best option available to him was an owl. They were highly magical, very intelligent, and always useful from what he'd gathered from the book. He walked over to Eeylops Owl Emporium hoping to find a suitable raptor. He grimaced as the loud hoots and screeches of the caged owls rang in his ears and a musky smell filled his nostrils.

"Welcome to Eeylops Owl Emporium, your one stop shop to all things owl. How can I help you today?" asked the shop keeper as he rushed over to help Harry.

"Um, I was looking to get an owl, sir," replied Harry, looking around the store. There were so many types of owls! He didn't even know how to choose one.

"Excellent! We have the greatest birds in all of Britain! Any type you're looking for specifically?"

"Um, not really."

"Well then, may I suggest this lovely screech owl here? He's only 15 galleons and can carry your mail all the way to the other end of France and back!" said the wizard, guiding Harry over to a large owl that screeched at him loudly.

"Um, no thanks... Maybe I'll just look around and let you know when I see one I like," suggested Harry and the man obliged.

He went around the store examining the owls, but only a few seemed to catch his fancy. He liked one barn owl, but it was still too young and far too small to deliver mail or fly for long. Harry sighed as he continued on looking. He didn't even know what he was looking for, except that maybe he was treating this too much like getting a wand. A wand chose the wizard, but there wouldn't be such a reaction with an owl. Or at least that's what he was thinking when he spotted a cage full of white towards the back of the shop. He walked towards it as the owl looked up at him with bright eyes. He immediately felt a connection with her as he had with the wand, though not one as strong. The tag said she was a snow owl worth 20 galleons.

"Hey there. You're a pretty bird. Want to come with me?" asked Harry as he stuck a finger in the cage. The bird looked at it, cocking it's head to the side before hooting softly and nibbling on the offered appendage gently.

Taking that as a yes, Harry called the shop keeper over and told him he'd chosen which one he wanted. He paid for the snowy bird along with the cage and bought a large bag of food and treats for it before leaving the store. He was going to head straight back to his rented room, but he passed by Flourish and Blotts and couldn't help, but walk inside.

"If it isn't my favorite bookworm!" called Mr. Flourish as he spotted Harry. "You got yourself an owl? She's a beauty. What's her name?"

"Er, I haven't decided yet, sir," replied Harry. After a few more pleasantries, Harry went around browsing through the books, and picked up the rest he needed to finish from last time as well as several new ones. He just couldn't help himself when they were loaded with so much information he didn't know about. Mr. Flourish looked a bit surprised as Harry paid for them this time, but didn't say anything.

Afterwards Harry went back to the pub, but before he could go to his room, the owner called him over, scowling at the bird.

"We don't do pets," he said sneering.

Harry just rolled his eyes and reached into his pouch before placing another galleon on the table before the keeper. The man smiled menacingly and nodded his head. "Glad we have an understanding."

Harry left before anything else could happen. He placed the cage on his table and allowed the bird to come out. She flew around the small room, before landing on the window sill and looking out.

"I'll let you out later tonight," said Harry as he tossed her a snack. "Hmmm, you need a name," he mumbled. He picked up on of the books and searched through it for a suitable name, trying out a few but not liking any until he arrived at a certain one.

"Ah, this one is nice. How about Hedwig?" he asked as the owl hooted back. "Hedwig it is!"

After spending a bit more time with the owl, he went back into his potions lab. At this rate he'd need to brew a smell removing potion or he'd walk around with his clothes stinking of fumes all day. He brought Hedwig down as well, leaving the trunk open in case she wanted to fly out.

He spent the rest of the day and the next few days working on brewing several potions in an attempt to increase his skill and experience with potions. The familiar book has cautioned against making the potion haphazardly as it would have a negative affect on both the familiar and the wizard. He spent two whole weeks that way, only going out of his room for breakfast and dinner and occasionally lunch when he had the time from leaving a potion brewing. It got to the point that he was making two or three at a time on the different tables as he waited for each of them to finish their individual states. At night he'd let Hedwig out and most mornings she'd bring back a nice treat to eat. He played with her often, getting a close bond as required for what would come next.

At the start of the third week, he could wait no longer. His potion making skill probably wasn't up to the level, but there was nothing else he could do without proper instruction. He finished his last potion (well a balm to be more specific, the Burning Bitterroot Balm) and called over Hedwig, offering her a treat.

"Hey girl, what do you say to being my familiar?" he asked, stroking her head. She finished the treat and looked up at him, cocking her head.

"We'd be linked by some bond, sharing our magic to make both of us more powerful. I just need some of your feathers, talons, and blood," he went on, making a face at the ingredients.

Hedwig seemed to consider his offer before hooting and holding out her wing as if to offer him a feather. Harry grinned as he plucked one of them as gently as he could. He took her down to the lab and gather the rest of the ingredients next to the cauldron. He pricked her for blood and filed of pieces of her talon and beak, reassuring her that they should regenerate once she drank the potion. He took his own hair and nails, putting them in a separate pile. He filed a bit of his tooth off, which was extremely painful. As he was filing up a small vial with his blood, he remembered something the wandmaker had said about his wand. _'Powerful in healing magic and curses. Funny that, eh? Blood magics too, I suspect.'_ One a whim, he took out his wand and sat down, closing his eyes and concentrating. He focused on his magic, trying to control it as best as he could and not let it all blast out like last time. After nearly half an hour of meditating like that, he swirled his wand inside his blood. The wand seemed to almost sing as it danced in the metallic liquid, pouring his magic into it. After it was done, Harry cleaned it and re-holstered it.

He arranged the ingredients on either side of his cauldron. His were on the right while Hedwig's were on the left. He almost threw up right there imagining drinking that, but resolved himself with grim determination not too. If there was one thing he'd realized over the course of the last two weeks of potion brewing, it was that every magical concoction tasted disgusting.

Besides he wouldn't have to drink it for some time, the potion needed to brew for a whole week, with precisely timed and measured stirrings with gradual addition of the ingredients. In surplus of his and Hedwig's parts, he needed to add in several other ingredients which he put in front of the cauldron. He gulped as he began brewing the potion. He started by putting in a teaspoon of crushed unicorn horn, followed by a few dried belladonna flowers. He followed it up by a carefully measured drop of tentacula sap, shivering as he recalled the dangers of messing with this ingredient. After adding in a couple more ingredients, Harry let it simmer for a while, occasionally stirring it around in determined, measured, clockwise strokes. After 3 and a half hours, he picked up the two vials of blood, making sure it was an equal amount, before slowly, carefully pouring them both in at the same time. The potion immediately turned dark red. He continued to swirl it for another few hours before adding in the rest of the ingredients, always in pairs (his hair with Hedwig's feathers, his nail clippings with her filed talons, his tooth with her beak). He then let it simmer for the night, though he didn't get much sleep as he had to keep swirling it every few hours. In the mourning he added some more ingredients to it, swirling it some more before covering it and leaving it to brew. After this he'd only have to come back every 13 hours to swirl it 7 times each for the next week and mix in a few final ingredients. If he'd done all the steps right, the potion should work. He sighed as he fell asleep at the table.

* * *

><p>He awoke with a start as he realized he'd forgotten to get syrup of Hellebore. That was the last ingredient he'd needed to add in and was due on the third day and he'd used up the last of it during the week he was practicing potion making. Face palming at his near disaster, he rushed out to get it.<p>

Unfortunately the apothecary in Knockturn Alley was out of stock. He ran to the one in Diagon Alley and sighed in relief when he found it. Before he could head back however, his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since he started brewing the potion. He had some time till the next stirring so he ducked into the Leaky Cauldron for a bite to eat. Sitting at one of the corner tables, he read the _Daily Prophet_ as he waited for his order to be made.

As he was waiting, a wizard and a witch walked into the pub from the muggle side. Normally Harry wouldn't have noticed them, but the wizard was wearing an odd hat and the witch had pink colored hair.

They both sat down a table away from him, looking weary and frustrated, especially the witch and told Tom, the barkeeper, "the usual, please."

Harry observed them curiously from behind his paper, not wanting to get caught staring. Especially the wizard. It'd been a while since Harry had felt outside magic since the Alleys were filled with it, but he could somehow sense the wizard was exceptionally powerful.

"Admit it, Kingsley, Dumbledore sent us on a pointless quest. We'll never find the Potter boy!" groaned the witch, her hair turning from pink to deep red as if to better convey her frustrations.

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he almost dropped the paper upon hearing that. The wizard hastily hushed her, sending her a disapproving look as he waved his wand around their table. Harry pulled the paper back up to block his face. He could barely move as he broke out in a sweat. Dumbledore knew he was gone. Dumbledore was searching for him. And this powerful wizard and eccentric witch were right there, just two meters away from him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Uh-oh. Looks like Harry's in a spot of trouble. Sorry for the cliff hanger, but I can promise things are about to tun interesting from now on.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'd appreciate feedback as always :p

Just a disclaimer (other than I don't own HP, of course), I'm trying to make the story as realistic as possible. So no Harry won't be over powered in his first year or take over the school on his first night. It's gonna be a real struggle for him. He'll have to fight and earn every inch of ground, with seemingly the entire magical world against him.

Thanks for reading and take care. May you all be blessed with eternal guidance.


	7. Minor Setbacks

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord

Chapter 7: Minor Setbacks

Harry's heart was beating so fast he was surprised the pair looking for him didn't hear it. He kept the news paper in front of him for as long as he could bear before the suspense got to him when he heard nothing more and lowered it just enough to see over. He saw the wizard and witch apparently arguing as their lips were clearly moving and their limbs were waving around. The wizard must have used some sort of silencing spell when he waved his wand that only let the two of them hear each other. This both frustrated and awed Harry. Frustrated because he could hear nothing more, and awed as he wondered when he could perform such magic.

He wanted to know who they were and how long they'd been searching for him. The man was called Kingsley, and seemed to radiate an aura of power. The witch was even more unusual with her hair changing color as it apparently adapted to her mood, turning darker as they continued arguing.

Tom soon came over to give Harry his order and he immediately looked down at it, forcing himself to eat slowly and act naturally as he felt the eyes of the pair on him. He prayed his meager disguise was enough. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until after he let it out once he felt the eyes stray and saw them go back to arguing from his peripheral vision. Pretending to focus completely on his newspaper and food, he waited as Tom brought them their's. Luckily they gobbled it up and after paying him, walked back out the muggle side of the pub.

Harry hurriedly finished his and went up to pay Tom.

"Um, excuse me, sir, who was that witch?" he asked.

"Oh? A tad bit young to be ogling witches already, aren't you boy?" chuckled Tom, causing Harry to blush.

"Er, no, I only meant her hair. It was really amazing, it kept changing colors. Is that a spell?"

"Nope, Tonks' is a metamorphagus. A rare breed of wizards and witches who can change their looks. She'll make a fine auror one day."

"They were aurors?" asked Harry.

"Kingsley, the large fellow, is one of the best! Tonks is still just a trainee."

After thanking him and paying for his meal, Harry scurried out lest the two come back. It made sense why the wizard seemed so powerful if he was a top auror, which he'd learned was what the wizarding police were called while reading the books introducing the wizarding world. He almost panicked as he realized that Dumbledore could have the entire police force out looking for him. Harry ran directly back to his room as fast as he could. After checking to make sure his disguise was as good as it could get at the moment, he went down to his lab and added the ingredient into his potion, stirring it carefully, before rushing back to Diagon Alley.

Ragnuk had warned him not to come back to the bank, but he had no other option. He needed some advice and the only ones he knew or could trust were the goblins.

Upon entering the bank, he got in line behind Bogrod's counter who took him immediately to see Ragnuk once he reached the front. As he had assumed, the goblin overlord was not pleased to see Harry.

"What are you doing back here, boy? Didn't I tell you to lay low?" grumbled the goblin.

"Yes, but something came up. I was in the Leaky Cauldron when I overheard two aurors talking about looking for me on Dumbledore's orders. The wizard cast some sort of charm that prevented me from hearing more."

"I'm not surprised," replied Ragnuk. "It would only have been a matter of time before the old coot found out. Aurors you said?"

"Yes, the wizard was called Kingsley and the witch was a metamorphagus auror trainee named Tonks, but he could easily have a lot more looking for me."

"Calm down. It's unlikely that he does. He might be Chief Warlock, but the aurors don't answer to him. They answer to Madam Amelia Bones head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I highly doubt Dumbledore went to her to help look for you, especially seeing how he's been trying to hide you all this time. Those two are probably part of his Order or owe him some favors. They didn't recognize you did they?" asked Ragnuk.

"No, it seemed as they were looking for me in the muggle world."

"Ah, good. It seems he hasn't realized you'd find the magical world on your own. That's probably the only reason those two didn't assume you were Harry Potter. But still, it is dangerous to hide near Diagon Alley. It's one of the most frequented areas and could prove dangerous if Dumbledore has more people looking for you. If they know what to look for, your cover could be blown just by stumbling across one of his followers."

"So what should I do?" pleaded Harry.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter have you heard of the phrase 'hidden right under your nose'? That too is of goblin origin perhaps due to our uncommonly proportioned noses, though the original is more along the lines of a blade held under an enemies nose."

"Um, yes?" replied Harry.

"Well did you also know, Dumbledore has a nose large enough to give any goblin a run for their knuts?"

"So I should hide under his nose?" reasoned Harry. "But how?"

"By being where he wants you to be. Why not go back to your relatives home?"

"What? No way! No way in hell!" exclaimed Harry. "I just got away from them. And now you want me to go back?"

"Calm, Mr. Potter," drawled the goblin leader. "Hear me out before you jump to conclusions. What was the reason Dumbledore sent you to your muggle relatives? Most like to hide you from the magical world, yes? Well now you know of it. Now that he knows you are no longer there, he will continually look for you until he finds you. It was my mistake for nor predicating this and I apologize. But I know Dumbledore. He will not give up easily. So the best you can do is return."

"But -" Harry started to protest before being cut off by Ragnuk's raised hand and a warning glare.

"I said hear me out. If you return now, perhaps pretending to have run away and then come scurrying back after having found no place in the wide, cruel world, the old fool will be consoled into thinking you are back under his control. However, you will be back on your terms and with the knowledge he was desperately trying to hide from you. You will know of magic and can continue to study it on your own until next year. You can continue to learn about the society and can even visit the Alley occasionally if you can manage to sneak away for the better part of a day. Once you are eleven, you can return here and we can continue with our original plan of freeing you from his guardianship. In the mean time you would not have to worry about him finding you and the consequences of what that might bring."

Harry pondered over what the goblin said, biting his lips. He didn't want to go back. He had finally tasted sweet freedom and it was too good to go back on. Besides he shuddered to think what his uncle would do if he returned.

"It's a good idea, but my uncle would kill me if I return," he said finally.

"You bought a wand, no?" asked Ragnuk. Harry nodded in the affirmative. "So what then do you have need to fear a muggle?"

"I can barely use magic right now. And even if I could I wouldn't trust the wanker to not off me in my sleep."

"Hmm... That does present a problem," replied Ragnuk, as he scratched his chin in preponderance.

Harry bit his lip and fidgeted in his chair as he tried to think of something, nearly jumping out when he did. "I have an idea! Can wizards do business in the muggle world?"

"Naturally. Though there are laws to avoid using magic to profit from muggles such as not using compulsion charms to make them buy what they don't want."

"Well what about stocks? My uncle is the director of a drilling company. But he's always complaining about the other board members and how they'd out him if they could. Can't I use my money to buy a majority of the company and threaten to kick him out if he does anything?"

The feral grin on the goblin lord would've put a dragon to shame. "A most... inspiring plan. See you're not too bad when you use that brain of yours, eh? It'd make for perfect revenge against the scoundrel as well. It will take up most of the money you have at the moment, however. And take at least a week to have my goblins go through the muggle process and obtain all the legal paper work. Not to mention the fee for doing business upon your behalf..."

"Ha, I'd give up all the money in Gringotts just to see the look on my uncle's face! Use as much as you need," replied Harry grinning.

BANG!

Harry jumped back in his seat as Ragnuk smacked the table in front of him, his face contorted. "Have you learned nothing this past week, boy? Even the most basic of texts should've told you to be wary of goblins and with good cause. We'd suck you dry with such open ended offers. Naturally I'd be rejoicing at your foolishness, but I've invested too much into you already. I expect a good return from when you grow up to be successful, not to have you trip over your own feet being a dunderhead. Use that pea sized brain of yours as you've demonstrated you're capable of!"

Harry was shocked at the reaction and could only nod in hopes of calming down the goblin. Though he was barely taller than Harry himself, he was quite fearsome when angered. Ragnuk eventually backed down, but kept glaring at him. Harry was about to mutter an apology, but paused as he internalized what the goblin said. The books he'd read had indeed said goblins were vicious and ruthless. Harry had not realized since they'd helped him out so he realized it was nothing but business for them. Harry had great potential, but was cut off from anyone but the goblins. By aiding him in his time of need, they could indeed get much more when he was back on his feet. He bit back his apology, recognizing it for the blunder it would've been and cleared his throat. Steeling himself, he sat straighter in his chair and nodded at the goblin lord.

"Thank you for the advice. I'd gotten ahead of myself. A week will be just fine. I need to stay to finish a potion anyway. I trust you'll handle the transaction as it befits."

Ragnuk's glare finally softened a bit. "Potion?" he asked.

"Yes, I've been practicing potions and was using one to get a familiar."

The goblin was silent for a moment as his lips tugged up slightly. "There may be hope for you yet. Now if there's nothing else, come back in a week. Don't go wandering around and keep your head down."

With that Harry left the bank and finally let out a sigh of relief. Goblins were pretty scary. He did keep his head down as he walked back to where he was staying. He'd just hole himself in for the week and finish his potion, taking his meals from there. It should be impossible for Dumbledore to find him then, especially if he was still looking in the muggle world.

He arrived at the pub, intending on going to check on his potion and reading in the mean time. Unfortunately, all did not go as planned as he was roughly pulled into an alleyway just before he reached the doors by a few rough looking wizards.

"What's a wee laddie like you doin' in a place like this, hmm?" asked the wizard that had pulled him.

"An' all alone to boot! Oh yes, we's seen you struttin' 'bout all 'igh and mighty like, throwin' your money around. Maybe you'd care to share a little, eh?" chuckled another one darkly as they dragged him farther into the dark alleyway and pushed him, causing him to trip over his feet and fall on the muddy ground. Startled, Harry struggled back up to see he was surrounded by three wizards wearing dirty, raggedy cloaks.

"Come on, boy, we don't got all day 'ere. Let's see that purdy little purse," said the third as his hand flashed into Harry's pocket and pulled out his mokeskin pouch containing all his money. He held it back out to Harry as the first wizard took out his wand and pointed it at him.

"Open 'er up, laddie, an' you just might not get hurt. There's a good boy," he chuckled to himself.

Harry was frozen and pale with fear as his brain scrambled for a way to get out of the situation. The second wizard frowned and kicked his leg from under him. Harry hissed in pain. He forced himself to get back up, his anger boiling up and a growl escaping his clenched teeth.

"Oooh, he thinks he's a tough one!" said the wizard with the wand as he began to wave it at him. Just as he was about to cast something, Hedwig soared down, screeching as she flew in front of him, raking his face with her sharp talons.

The men screamed as he clutched his face with one hand, a spell shooting out of his wand and blasting past Harry and in to the dirt, causing it to explode upwards.

"Damned bird! Come back 'ere!" he growled as he along with the other two aimed their wands at Hedwig who was swooping back in to defend Harry.

"NOO!" yelled Harry, his rage finally bubbling over as he stuck his hand out in front of him and felt his magic shot out in a hot wave and blast the three wizards across the alleyway. Harry looked in shock at his hand. It still felt hot from the burst of uncontrolled magic. A few seconds later he felt it inside of him, as if his core was constricting upon itself, and he realized it was from using up most of the magic he had. Ever since he'd used it accidentally on the Dursley's he could feel it swirling inside of him, but now it felt as like a slow trickle. He didn't exactly know how, but apparently he could shoot out a magical blast. He hadn't read any spells similar to it yet, except maybe the banishing spell. But this seemed more like his raw magic bursting out in a shock wave.

Before he could analyze anymore, Hedwig flew down to sit on his shoulder still looking miffed while the wizards were getting up, groaning in pain and muttering curses faster than a bullet train. Harry paled in fear again as they crawled to their wands. He was already feeling weak at the knees from the lack of magic, he doubted he could pull another stunt like that.

"And just what is going on here?" drawled a sneering voice from the entry of the alleyway, saving him from having to. A tall man walked towards them, his hair billowing behind him and his cane tapping on the ground. Harry couldn't exactly make out who it was as the light was shining behind him, but the three raggedy wizards all gasped and fell backwards trying to crawl away from him.

"What, in Merlin's name, are you idiots doing here?" sneer that voice again. The thugs were stuttering as they tried to answer but they didn't have to. The wizard seemed to see something and bent down to pick it up, tossing it in his hands. It seemed to be Harry' pouch.

"Ah, I see. Robbing little children now? And failing, it seems," he scoffed. "How embarrassing. Can't even go up against accidental magic? Pathetic."

Harry couldn't see him sneer, but it wasn't too hard to imagine from the tone of the voice.

"And what the hell do you think you're doing, accosting people by _my _pub? You dare?" continued the man his anger rising, as he kept tossing the pouch up and down causally in one had, the other still resting on his cane.

"We- we're sorry Mr. Malfoy!" cried the trio as Harry gasped. He'd read that name in the _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. Lucius Malfoy. It was one of Voldemort's supporters who was let off after claiming to be controlled by some spell. "W-w-we won't let it happen again!"

After a long moment, the wizard huffed in annoyance and ordered them to get lost. They scurried past Harry, tripping over themselves, but not before glaring at him murderously.

The man approached Harry, and he could see him clearly now, with his pale blond hair and intimidating aura. He looked Harry up and down curiously, his eyes resting briefly on Hedwig before tossing him the pouch. Harry barely caught it.

"Mudbloods," sneered Lucius in disgust, causing Harry to gasp. He could practically feel the magic roll of the man as opposed to his own dry reserves. "Think you can just walk around here, strutting about with your loose change, as if you own the world? Think you're too good to come to any harm? Pathetic fools," growled Malfoy as he literally spat at Harry's shoes. "Still, it would be bad for business to kick you out while you've already paid your part. If you're still here by next week, when I return, though..." he trailed off, though the intent was clear in his eyes. Sneering one last time, the man turned on his heel and strolled away without a glance back.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He almost fell over from the shock of the experience. He'd just stood in front of a widely renowned, suspected dark wizard and clear follower of pure blood ideology. If Harry hadn't been so scared, he'd probably have gotten angry over the slur, but right now he was just glad the man hadn't harmed him or worse, realized who he was. He dusted himself off and hurried into the building, _Malfoy's_ building. Without looking at anyone he rushed straight into his room and slammed the door behind him, sliding down in front of it.

Hedwig nibbled his ears, causing him to yelp. "Ow! Stop that!" he said as he offered his hand and she jumped down to it. He smiled at her as he stroked her with his other hand. "Thanks for saving me back there. I'd have been toast if they hexed me."

After he calmed down, he went down to his lab, surveying his potion and began reading to get his mind off the tumultuous day. He spent the rest of the week locked up in his room, only stepping out to bring his meals up. He brewed the potion and read through his stockpile of books. On the final day of the potion, he sat anxiously in front of it, fidgeting and glancing at it every two seconds. When finally it was ready he poured a bit into a bowl and larger portion into a cup. He propped the bowl in front of Hedwig, who sniffed at it disdainfully.

"Haha! I know, it's disgusting. But we have to drink it to form the familiar bond." The potion worked by forming affinities in the two and mimicking the magical way of forming the bond. It would be weaker at the beginning until it worked their magic to slowly grow into the bond. It was made for children who couldn't yet manipulate magic and cast spells.

Looking at his own cup in disgust, Harry drew a deep breath and lifted it up in a mock cheer. "Well bottom's up," he groaned as he closed his eyes and downed the disgusting fluid, trying not to think of what was inside. At the same time Hedwig lapped up her portion from the bowl.

"Ugh! Freaking disgusting!" he yelled as he rushed to rinse his mouth. After subduing the foul taste sightly he looked up at his owl, waiting for something to happen. And he kept waiting as Hedwig stared back at him.

"Ummm... so did that work? That better have worked! It took forever to make and I can't afford to make another one. Not to mention no way in hell am I drinking that again." He went back to the book and groaned as it stated it'd take about a day to start being noticeable. Tossing the book aside, he fed Hedwig an owl treat before going to bed. Today would be his last day in the pub; he had no desire to tempt fate and run into Lucius Malfoy again.

The next morning he woke up energized and hopped out of bed. As he put on his glasses however he noticed they were slightly blurry. He wiped them clean but it didn't seem to make anything better. Shrugging it off, he went to Hedwig and fed her breakfast. He didn't really feel a major difference, but somehow could tell that the familiar bond was beginning to take hold. He couldn't explain how, but he could just barely notice something different in his magic, like trying to make out something in really murky water. He assumed the glasses problems might be from that too. Grinning at his hopeful success (it'd still take a few days to see how it went), he started packing all his things into his trunk, including Hedwig's cage and fitting the trunk into the pouch. He paid a two galleon fee to leave early and hurried away. He opened the window to let Hedwig out and told her to fly to Diagon Alley ahead of him. He speed walked towards Diagon Alley, only too happy to get out of the gloomy Knockturn Alley. However just as he was almost out of it, he ran into the three hoodlums again. As they blocked his way and taunted him, Harry forced himself to get angry. It wasn't hard especially when he recalled what Lucius called him yesterday and what it meant. He flung his hand up as his anger boiled to the top and was pleased to feel his magic blast out at the three. Before they could regain their senses, he ran past them as fast as he could, running straight into the first building he could in Diagon Alley. He snooped around it for a while until he thought it was safe and went back out, heading straight for Gringotts. Once again making his way to Bogrod, the goblin led him to Ragnuk's office. This time Zargulg was also present and he went over the steps he'd taken to secure Grunnings Drill Company and the cost. Wincing at the last bit, Harry calculated he only had a little less than a thousand galleons left from his original thirty thousand. They then went over the papers and what Harry needed to show and tell Vernon to keep him in check.

"Well Mr. Potter, do try not to get yourself killed. We'll see you in about a year?" said Ragnuk by means of farewell and Harry replied in the affirmative before thanking them and leaving.

Harry walked away from the bank and went towards the owl shop above which he saw Hedwig roosting. He called her down to tell her to try and follow him from above, confident by now in his familiar's abilities. Then he hurriedly went to a small book store and one final time at the apothecary to purchase enough books and ingredients to hopefully last him the year. He sighed melodramatically as he had to leave the wizarding world behind, and walked out of Diagon Alley. He looked back one final time as he walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, his jaw clenching in determination. This was nothing more than a minor setback. He would be back soon. And when he was, he would no longer cower to the likes of Albus Dumbledore or Lucius Malfoy. He certainly wouldn't be chased about by common thugs or have to live in shady alleys. He would become a powerful wizard in his own right. He promised himself he would more than live up to his legacy and surpass even Merlin himself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Sorry for the long wait, but I hope you like the chapter.

I'm looking for a beta to help me fix my writing (I'm sure there's plenty of mistakes I missed). Please let me know if you're interested.

Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is welcome.

May you have the best of this world and the next! Till next time.


	8. Unexpected Visitor

Book 1: Harry Potter and The Birth of The Gray Lord

Chapter 8: Unexpected Visitor

Harry hopped on the train, thankful that he'd remembered to convert some wizarding money into muggle currency. He wished he could cast actual spells as a few people gave him funny looks, as if he was some kind of _freak_, seeing him travel alone and in such shabby clothes. His glare soon fixed them. He scowled and bought the tip of his wand out of it's holster to rest in his palm, calming down as it aligned his magic. He was a wizard! He should be flying around on brooms rather than taking a train. Even though trains looked cooler than brooms... Seriously though, why brooms? Well either way it wasn't about the brooms, it was about the _magic_. He was a wizard, the only one known to survive a killing curse! And here he was going back to live with stupid muggles. He felt his anger grow even more as he thought about his oppressive so called family. If they dared try hurt him this time, or call him a _freak_...

**Ca-Crack**!

He was snapped out of his thoughts as the window he'd been spacing out at cracked under his bout of accidental magic and he felt his hand burning from where it touched his wand. The silly muggles around him screamed in surprise and fear as they moved away from it. He used the commotion to sneak away into a less occupied compartment and sat down in the corner. He chided himself over his carelessness and powerlessness to control his own magic. How was he supposed to be a wizard if he could barely control it? He forced himself to calm down and felt his wand grow cooler as well. He was suddenly reminded of the confrontation in the alleyway. In his rage and haste to help his familiar (which he knew had landed on the train when he entered it) he'd forgotten to use his wand. He'd simply blasted raw magic at the thugs through his hand, just like he had done when he broke the door of his cupboard. He had to force himself to keep sitting and not take out his trunk and look through his books. From what he remembered from his reading on the basics of magic, wands were necessary for most wizards to use spells. It was a conduit form them to control their magic through, which was why the wand choosing the wizard mattered so much. It had to be compatible with their inner magic to be able to channel it through the wood. Wandless magic was rare and limited to the truly gifted and powerful. Yet he'd always used his magic wandlessly. Granted, it wasn't an actual spell, just raw magic like accidental magic tended to be, but it also wasn't accidental. He'd _meant _to do it. He'd meant to break open the door. He'd meant to hurt them, to force them away from him and Hedwig. It was probably a good thing he hadn't used his wand, as it would've only amplified his burst like it had when he tried casting a spell at his trunk. He suddenly felt a lot more cheerful. He might not be able to cast spells yet, but he was getting a hang of his magic. Each day it could feel it more clearly than the day before and it'd only be a matter of time before he could fully control it.

* * *

><p>It was evening by the time he arrived 'home'. To his utter annoyance he had to stop and ask directions from some muggle as he only knew the general direction to Surrey, not the exact way to Little Whinging. He'd had to switch from the trains to the buses, and sighed again as he thought how much easier magical transportation might be.<p>

As he walked up to 4 Privet Drive, he felt his anger boil up again. He really didn't want to ever see his relatives again let alone have to go live under the same roof as them. He cursed Dumbledore for forcing him to this. But he'd have to endure if he was to survive.

_'At least this time, things will be different'_, he thought as he knocked on the door. He clenched and his fists as he waited for the door to open.

When it did, he found Vernon Dursley staring down at him, swiftly growing purpler and purpler by the second.

"YOU! GET IN HERE YOU FREAK!" he yelled as he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pushed him inside, slamming the door behind him. He stumbled inside as he saw both Petunia and Dudley bandaged up. Petunia was staring at him with intense hatred while Dudley was cowering behind her.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING BACK HERE? COULDN'T SURVIVE OUT ON THE STREETS WHERE YOU BELONG, YOU FILTH? OH, BUT NOW YOU'LL GET WHAT'S COMING!" declared the walrus like man as he punched Harry, sending him flying to the floor. He kicked him in the gut before walking around him to pick up one of Dudley's bats. "YOU DARE USE YOUR FREAKINESS TO HURT _MY_ FAMILY? I'M GOING TO BLOODY MURDER YOU, YOU FIL-!"

**BOOOOM!**

He was cut off as Harry's wand flew into his hand and a tremendous burst of raw magic flew at him. It was only luck that from Harry's angle on the floor he mostly missed. The blast, amplified by his humming wand and powered by his raging fury at the name calling and physical abuse, rocked past his uncle, clipping him on the shoulder and sending him tumbling backwards from the sheer force of it as it crashed into the wall, tearing a huge hole through it.

Petunia shrieked in fear and ran to her husband as Dudley fainted. Harry wiped his hand across his chin where he had been punched, and found he was bleeding. He stood up and slowly walked toward the pair.

"Ahhhh! Get back, you freak!" screamed Petunia as Vernon tried to get back up.

"Enough," declared Harry, his red hot fury having turned to ice cold rage. "Call me that _one_ more time, and I will kill you," he said in a deadpan voice as he leveled his wand at them.

Petunia gasped as she scrambled back away from him upon seeing the wand, her eyes wide open in shock, fear, and understanding. Her nephew must have discovered the magical world if he had a wand now. Vernon followed her lead and cowed away as well though not with the same understanding.

"I do not want to be here," continued Harry in a deadly calm voice. "I never wanted to see your faces again. But I'm forced to be here for another year. I will take the guest room upstairs. I'm not going to set foot in that prison you call a cupboard. You won't talk to me. You won't bother me. I'll make my own food. I'll take care of myself. As far as you're concerned I don't exist. As far as I'm concerned you pathetic, disgusting, _muggles _don't exist," said Harry, finally some of his anger creeping into his voice.

Petunia was still speechless, her eyes never leaving the wand while Vernon started getting purple again.

"You f... you... you have no right to-"

"No right? I have no right to be here? I have no right to eat your food and breath your air? I have no right to bother your oh so highness with my meager, unworthy existence? Oh, I think I have every damn right. You used to tell me I'm dead weight and work me like a slave to 'earn my keep'. My keep that was half a plate and a glass of water on a good day, while you filled your fat arse and that fat little piglet of yours off of _my _money! Oh yes, I know," ground out Harry as Vernon started paling. "I know everything you tried to hide from me. I'm a _wizard_ not a _freak!_ My parents were heroes who killed a mad man that would have given you a fate worse than death if you crossed his path. And you repay them by locking me up and treating me like a dog while getting fat on my money which you were supposed to use to take care of me. No, I have every right to kill you right here and now."

Harry spat at them before turning back and walking away before his anger got the best of him and he did something he'd regret. He felt his wand almost whine in protest when he put it away. He'd reached the stairs and was heading to his self declared domain before Vernon's idiocy got the better of him.

"How dare you talk to us like that! We raised you when we could've left you rotting on the doorstep instead of taking you in. Do you think we asked for you? That we wanted you? We were forced to take care of you! And I won't stand for it anymore! Get out! Get out of my house and if you ever come back, I'll blow your head off! We'll see how your freakishness deals with a gun!"

Harry turned back around and blasted him with another burst of magic, this time without his wand. It came to him easier and easier with each use. "I. Said. Don't. Use. That. Word," he ground out as he walked toward him before he realized what else he had said. "What do you mean I was left at the doorstep?"

"You and your fr..." he withered at the look on Harry's face. "You-your kind. Your kind left you on our doorstep with nothing but a letter!"

"What letter? Give it to me."

"As if we'd keep that piece of shite! I burned it myself. Just like I'll do to you if you don't get out right now!" he shouted, his threat nullified by the way he was crawling back away from Harry.

Harry wasn't even listening anymore as he pondered on the new information. So Dumbledore left him on the muggle doorstep. He'd assumed they had a deal or something, with them getting money to keep him away from magic, but that old coot had just left him as a baby on a muggle doorstep! How dare he!

"... you think you're all that now just cause you can do magic? I'll snap that stick and kill you in your sleep tonight, boy! We'll see how your _magic_ helps you then!" continued Vernon, spitting the word out mockingly as Harry tuned back in.

"Hmph. You think I didn't think you would? If you do, you'll only ruin yourself," said Harry, almost grinning as he took out his pouch. He took out some papers from it and flung them in Vernon's face. "I _own_ you. I'm the largest share holder of your stupid company. One word and you'll burn faster than any piece of paper. Oh and that's not the only copies, so don't even think about it. My bank accountant has the real paperwork and knows what to do if _anything_ happens to me. Not only will you lose your job, he'll be pressing charges for child abuse and murder. Now shut up and never speak to me again," ordered Harry as he went up the stairs.

Meanwhile Vernon picked up the papers, his face going deathly pale as he confirmed Harry's words.

* * *

><p>It was dark by the time Harry finished his dinner. After going up to the room and taking out his things, he'd slumped back in the bed, tired from using so much magic. He'd gotten back up when he heard a tap on the window and grinned brightly when he saw Hedwig. He let her in and took out her cage. Before putting her in it, however, he thought otherwise and put it back away, giving the owl free reign in the room. Her presence and the company of one of his books calmed him down enough to go downstairs again after a while to get food for himself and his familiar. True to his word, he completely ignored the existence of the Dursley's who were cowing away from him. Dudley was back up again and ran into a different room as soon as he spotted Harry. Harry scooped up random items and some bacon for his owl. He cooked them in his potions lab and ate the first full meal he could ever remember eating in this cursed house. After his meal he'd finished reading his book before drifting off to sleep. He missed how the street lamps went dark all of a sudden along Privet Drive.<p>

* * *

><p>Downstairs the Dursley's were conversing in hushed voices on how to handle this new Harry when a knock came on their door.<p>

Petunia went to open it as Vernon was lying on the couch, having bruised his back and arm when he was flung by Harry's blasts.

She gasped when she saw who it was. To her own surprise it was more in relief than the usual disdain she would've mustered.

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Harry was disturbed by a weak knock on his door. Groaning he got up and went to check, glaring at a whimpering Dudley.<p>

"Didn't your moronic parents tell you not to disturb me?"

"Umm... vi-vi-visitor. Do-downstairs," managed out Dudley before he fled when Hedwig soared over to land on Harry's shoulder.

"Ugh. I swear to God if it's that walrus' sister, I'm going to snap," he groaned as he walked down the stairs. He was only half way when he stopped dead in his tracks, his foot hanging in the air.

"D-Dumbledore?!" he asked in shock before he could help himself when he saw the old man sitting calmly on the couch sipping his tea, his eyes twinkling away behind his half moon glasses.

The twinkle momentarily disappeared when he heard Harry say his name and as his eyes traveled to the clearly magical owl on his shoulders. He looked back at the Dursley's causing them to shiver under his glare.

"You told him about me?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>New chapter in celebration of getting 109 reviews! 109 is a cool number.

I'm surprised I've written this much and still haven't gotten to Hogwarts yet. I had originally planned to be there by now, but each time I start writing I just keep extending it more than I planned. Don't worry Harry will be on the train in about 2 more chapters.

I probably won't post another chapter for about a month as I'm getting fairly busy irl. It's the month of Ramadan so Ill be fasting and have to go to summer school as well so not enough energy to write. I also need to reread the books because it's been forever since I did and I need to refresh understanding of canon.

Anyway hope you guys like it and be sure to leave a review! Especially if you like the story and want others to read it.

**Special thanks to TheMoreSmutTheBetter**** for reviewing and correcting my many many mistakes in previous chapters!**

As always, may you all be blessed with the best in the world and the next!


End file.
